


to be a dagger

by charizona



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3254825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charizona/pseuds/charizona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll see you in class.” Sameen says it like it’s a promise, and Root has never felt more included in her life.</p><p>Or, the one where Sameen's from Durmstrang and completely going to <em>win</em> the Triwizard Tournament and Root is content to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you've earned it

In the winter, the castle hallways breathe and stretch, reminding Root of a baby bird unfolding its wings for the first time. It truly comes alive and Root's glad the other students aren't around to see it. Warm air clogs the spaces despite the lack of students and Root revels in it, one of few still sticking around, inhabiting the Slytherin common room in nice, clean robes. The fire begs for poking and the book in her lap smells older than anything she owns.

Everyone is eating, settled in the Great Hall and waiting for Beauxbatons Academy and the Durmstrang Institute to arrive, and Root's beyond that, doesn't care much for the flair behind the mysterious schools.

The book in her lap belongs to a classmate and something about hippogriffs entertains the page, but Root's _bored_ , her foot twirling in air and tracing random shapes. Her finger curls around a strand of hair and she shrugs into her robes further, comfortable and warm in green and black. She's not old enough to compete in the Triwizard Tournament so she couldn't care less making an attempt to put her name in the Goblet of Fire; she has no plans to make an effort.

She sighs, sprawling in the chair. Looking over at the stale fireplace, she glances around and finds that the two people in the room when she’d first come in are gone. She pulls out her wand, rubs her finger along the wood, and idly points it at the space, gazing until it sparks with just a bit of fire. It’s enough to get it started and almost as soon as her wand appeared, it’s gone, hidden back in her robes as she leans her head back.

She stares at the ceiling. She'd gotten away with ditching big ceremonies like this before, but right now, it's just a matter of how long she can hide before anyone notices she's gone. She doesn’t really care for seeing French teenagers who think they're better than everyone else, or the elitist, snobby purebloods from Durmstrang (she gets enough of it from her own _housemates_ ). Her options are limited.

Eventually, she does get up. She replaces the book in the girls’ dormitory and steals a few coins from someone’s bag. She scowls when she hears a scuffle from the corner of the room, her corner of the room where her bed sits delightfully as a single. She crosses quickly, uncovering the small cage and within in, her ferret. The animal stares up at her solemnly and Root purses her lips.

“Not that look again.” She lowers her voice to a taunt, mostly because a ferret will not be convincing her to put back some coins. “I’ll need it more than her the next time we go to Hogsmeade," she reminds him, and the ferret flops over. Root sounds idiotic, talking to an animal after stealing from her classmate, even if black, beady eyes tug at her heart. She lets the cover settle on the cage and sits on the edge of her bed, feeling the weight of the coins in her hand.

She stands after a moment and starts to head to the Great Hall, if only for the food.

 

.

 

Sameen Shaw drowns in her robes, sinking in shades of crimson, but she's in the front. She’s in the front and she doesn’t _get_ to be small. Not now, not ever, and especially not with Headmaster Hersh’s hand on her shoulder as he stands next to her.

Her fingers curl around her staff and she leads the representatives from her school, Durmstrang Institute, into Hogwarts' Great Hall. It’s rehearsed and strange, but as she catches glimpses of the starry-eyed Hogwarts students, it’s worth it. All the hard work to get here was worth it. Since the tournament was announced, Hersh has spent almost every waking moment working with her, sparring one on one -- she's had to endure the envious looks of her classmates. It's obvious she's Hersh's first choice, but compared to the others, her scores are higher, she throws stronger and better placed punches, and magic comes to her faster and easier than anyone else she's ever met.

If anyone's name is going to be chosen from the Goblet of Fire, it's hers.

Her cloak curls over her shoulders and her uniform molds around her body stiffly when she sits down with Grice and Brooks, paying more attention to the food on the table rather than what they’re saying. She catches an offhand comment from Brooks, something about Hogwarts being dirty. All castles are subject to dust, really, so Sameen agrees between bites of savory  beef and thick drinks of something she doesn't have a name for. Brooks sends her an odd glance but keeps talking regardless.

Grice rips into a piece of meat and Sameen surveys the large room. Four long tables fill the space, one for each Hogwarts house, and Durmstrang tacks on at the edge of the Slytherin table. The ceiling is almost peaceful, clouds covering a full moon that Sameen can't stop glancing at. The food is amazing, almost as good as her usual back home; she doesn't miss the glance Brooks gives her when she tears into some steak. Her and Brooks never really got along, salvaging a fragile companionship for the sake of Grice. She'd never really taken the time to get to know Brooks, but she'll be damned if she lets blonde eyebrows raise every time she takes a bite.

Sameen sighs. “I’ll be back,” she mutters, leaving her plate half finished. Hoping that the food’s still warm by the time she comes back, she slips out before Hersh can see her leaving and ends up in an empty hallway.

She’d left with hopes of the bathroom, though she's never been in this school in her life. She has absolutely no clue where the restroom is and, judging by the hands on their stomachs and the soft snores, the people in the paintings aren’t going to help her. Just as well, she's never been one to back down from a challenge.

She walks down hallways and hallways and more… hallways. Soon, she reaches a staircase, actually, _several_ staircases , but doesn't leave the floor in fear of getting more turned around. She turns and attempts retracing her steps, but everything looks exactly the same as just outside of the Great Hall. Although, she can’t hear the sounds of a crowd eating and talking, only her own heart thudding in her ears.

Her back hits the wall when she leans against it, cool stone curling icy fingers around her shoulder blades despite her heavy robes. She stands there for a long time, though she doesn’t keep track of how many minutes inch by, just that she does really have to use the restroom. She glances back and forth down the hallway and sighs at the unfamiliar walls and sighs, hopelessly lost.

When she sees a girl walking toward her, head down and hair dark and lost in the traditional black of Hogwarts robes, Sameen avoids looking at the girl who definitely knows this school better than she does. The girl is almost past her when she finally opens her mouth, burrowing down the pride she’s attempted to swallow several times over.

“Hey, uh.” Her voice isn’t nearly as confident as she wants it to be, but the girl stills nonetheless. “Could you tell me where a restroom is?” There’s a slight accent to her own words and the words are heavy on her tongue, almost like syrup. It's like this whenever she asks for help, like admitting defeat.

The girl looks up at her, crooking one eyebrow almost miles above the other, lips parted and hair curling in her face. She reaches up, tucking a chunk of hair around the back of her ear and says, “I’ll take you." She whispers it shyly, glancing down at her feet.

“Thank you.” She falls into step beside the other girl. She’s taller; not unlike most of the people Sameen meets.

“Nothing better to do,” adds the girl, smiling like she's sharing some sort of inside joke. If she is, Sameen doesn't get it.

Sameen frowns, feeling the pull of her robes as she takes longer strides to match the girl’s wide step. “There is a ceremony," Sameen points out.  Sameen wonders if she’s found someone not entirely trustworthy to act as her guide. “A feast.”

“Is there?” the girl wonders, and looking at her, Sameen can’t tell if she’s joking. She's not familiar with the Hogwarts houses, but she’s curious now which the green and black of the girl's tie falls into. It would make it easier for her to read this girl.

Like she’s scouring her thoughts, the girl turns toward her, smirking. “I’m Root, by the way.” As Sameen opens her mouth to respond, Root cuts her off, gesturing with a wide sweep of her arm. “We’re here.”

Sameen looks around them and zeros in on a small sign on the wall, something she probably would have missed, not knowing it was there. Sure enough, around the corner, the stone turns to tile and she sees the bathroom is unoccupied, several stalls with doors wide open.

She looks back at Root and says, “I’m Sameen,” before ducking inside. She’s careful to hang up her cape and locks herself in the stall, listening for the sounds of Root leaving. She flushes and slides out, stopping when she sees Root still standing there.

Wearing _her_ cloak.

“Uh.” Sameen’s pretty sure they’ve got to breaking one of Hersh's rules somehow, what with Root’s thin shoulders underneath Sameen’s crimson, shimmering garment. “You’re still here?”

Root glances at her and shrugs. “You don’t know how to get back to the Great Hall, do you?”

Sameen shakes her head, irritation finally settling in and winning over the need to be polite. Even though Hogwarts is hosting them for the tournament, it doesn’t mean that _Sameen_ has to be hospitable. She takes two steps forward and yanks the cape from Root’s shoulders, easily wrapping it around herself. She glares and it earns her an odd look in return, warmth flooding through her unexpectedly at having been read wrong by the other girl.

“Follow me, then.” Root turns without another word. It’s harder this time to keep pace with her longer legs, considering how her brisk pace is even brisker than the first time, as she weaves them back through complicated and confusing hallways that are still attempting to etch their way into Sameen’s memory. By the time they’re back at the Great Hall, Sameen is more turned around than she should be.

She stops just outside the doors. “Thank you.” She’s repeating the sentiment again and again, it seems, though she doesn’t entirely mind. There's a shift in the atmosphere between and then Root's smiling again, all traces of her cloudy mood disappearing as her face lights up.

“My pleasure.” Root grins at her, the admission sounding sincere.

Shaw turns to leave, but she stills, letting out the one thing that had been tugging at her the whole time. “What house are you in?”

Root chews on her bottom lip before answering, looking like she considers lying for a brief moment. She's wearing her house tie, so Sameen will find out sooner or later. Finally, Root answers. “Slytherin. Reserved for narcissistic purebloods who want to watch the world burn. Barring me, of course, as I only knew my parents long enough to know that they _weren’t_ wizards.”

Sameen’s eyebrows knit together and she opens her mouth before closing it again. She’s not offended, not really, just sorting out all of the new information.

Root’s eyes go wide. “And I’m just now realizing that you’re from Durmstrang, which only accepts purebloods. Excuse me for making a complete fool of myself.”

Sameen notices that the other girl doesn’t apologize, doesn't take the words back. Sameen admires the audacity. She doesn't see that kind of perseverance in a lot of people and she isn't sure if she likes it.

She opens her mouth and is slow to defend her school, considering the insult that had come from Root just moments ago. “Not only purebloods, just... “ Root is smiling at her, an eyebrow cocked, and Sameen shrugs. “Just not muggleborns.”

“Guess I never had a chance.” The words should be sad, though there's a smile on Root’s lips and a lilt to her voice that Sameen can’t place.

"Why’s Slytherin so notorious for purebloods, anyway,” Sameen asks, and she's glad that her voice doesn’t sound interested at all.

“Four founders,” Root explains, not seeming the least bit bothered at having to tell what is practically folktale at her school, “and one of them, Salazar Slytherin, was obsessed with only teaching purebloods. Didn’t end well.”

“Hm.” Sameen looks at Root a long moment before she says, “Sounds kind of like a snake.” She turns around and goes back into the Great Hall without so much as a goodbye, settling beside Grice and Brooks, the former looking like he’s about to burst from eating too much food.

She watches, from across the room, as Root slips in from a different entrance, settling somewhere in the middle of the table. Sameen takes the time to just watch as Root doesn’t talk to anyone, nor touch any of the food and Sameen finds herself wondering why, but pushes the thought away. She doesn’t have to spend anymore thoughts on the strange girl she’d just met. She’d like to, though, considering how odd Root actually is. Sameen's never met anyone quite like Root before. She can’t pinpoint what it is about her that makes her intriguing.

Sameen digs into her food and relishes at the way Grice looks greener by the second, gagging each time she takes a bite; he tightens the fist in front of his mouth as Brooks scowls at him and Sameen continues to eat. Hogwarts may be weird, but they can sure pull off one hell of a feast.

 

.

 

Root sits at the top of the stairs and watches the ring around the goblet shimmer each time a student walks through it; slips of paper in their hand at the ready, their names written hastily on them. Her teachers' words echo through her head, reminding her of the exact way to become a Hogwarts champion, how to to put her name in the goblet. She may not want to compete, but she has idle curiosity to see who does. Most of the people she’s seeing aren’t even going to be considered by the goblet, books have told her, precisely because of their foolishness. The goblet only chooses the best to represent each school and Root has yet to see it.

Well, yet.

She catches a glimpse of a certain group of students entering, and she watches with cold eyes as John Reese, Joss Carter, and Harold Finch make their way to the goblet. A pang of electric jealousy crawls through her chest when she watched the way they walk in step, even stronger when the room falls silent for a brief moment when they enter. Reese and Carter are, after all, Gryffindor’s prize quidditch players. Practically celebrities at this school and Harold, well, Root is sure that he’d make good conversation, if she ever gets the chance.

Reese and Carter walk arm in arm toward the Goblet of Fire, him pausing momentarily to let her cross the age line of blue fire first. She grins, shaking her head at him, before stepping in front of him. Carter as Hogwarts' representative wouldn't be so bad. A prefect, a beater on the quidditch team; she might be able to match what Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have to offer. (That is, if what they have to offer isn’t monstrous).

Reese holds out a hand for Carter’s slip of paper and easily places both his and Carter’s in the goblet, not even needing to extend his height. His hand slips through hers and they make their way back to Harold, who offers them a crooked smile when they sit on either side of him. A long time ago, Harold used to give Root that same smile. The thought makes her taste something bitter.

The crowd claps for them and Root doesn’t move a muscle, waiting for the more interesting candidates to arrive.

She doesn’t have to wait long.

Durmstrang comes in next and Root swears half of the Hogwarts students in the room immediately evaporate, disappearing out the side doors and exits. Root looks for Sameen and when she spots her, she smiles widely, resting her chin on her hands. She’s flanked by a huge boy and a blonde girl, each with a scowl much similar to Sameen’s.

They walk with a purpose, steps matched with equal intensity and Root would swear she sees sparks underneath their feet. They cross the threshold at the same time, the boy putting his name in first and the girl following suit just after, turning on their heels and leaving Sameen staring at the goblet. Her expression is neutral, bathed in dim, blue light, and root can't help but stare. Sameen reaches on her toes to put her name in, eventually disappearing back into the crowd as several small, reluctant claps chase her out.

And Root had sat, unable to tear her eyes away. She'd tugged her lower lip between her teeth and leaned forward as Sameen was drenched in ethereal blue light, looking like all a champion should be: devastating, breathtaking, and dangerous.

 

.

 

Root stays for a while after, watching different students from different schools mingle and make their way up to the goblet. Throughout the evening, she makes some odd guesses as to who might be chosen. People cheer for certain students and laugh at others, but Root stays silent, content to watch. She’s convinced that it'll be Sameen chosen as Durmstrang’s champion, but she’s also convinced that's because Sameen is the only person she knows from the other school. From Beauxbatons, she's not sure.

“What, you don’t think you can be Hogwarts’ reigning champ?” Sameen’s voice is low in her ear, breath hot on Root’s neck, and Root only has just suppressed a shiver when Sameen plops down beside her. Root’s not the least bit surprised, but she _is_ delighted. Sameen adds, under her breath, “I hear it’s not that hard, but despite that, my school's never won one of these things."

“Not me.” A sigh falling from her lips, Root looks at the other girl. Sameen’s eyes are lit by blue fire and her brows knit together in a way that is becoming increasingly familiar. Root adds, by way of explanation, “I’m sixteen.” She pauses, then adds, in a weird imitation of the Minister of Magic’s voice, “Not a fully grown wizard yet.”

“Oh.” Sameen looks back at the goblet and the age line drawn around it. She continues on, as if it doesn’t bother her at all -- she'd only thought differently -- and says, “Sixth year, then?”

“Nope.” Root shrugs. “Late birthday.”

Sameen nods, pulling her robes further around herself. “Well, are you going to reveal Hogwarts’ secrets so I can relay them back to my champion?” Her voice is neutral but her words are teasing and Root bites her lip to keep from laughing.

“Never,” she growls, standing up and walking down the steps. Most of the students have cleared out by now, it being late, and Root turns around one last time when Sameen calls out to her.

“I’ll see you in class.” Sameen says it like it’s a promise, and Root has never felt more included in her life.

Root grins wickedly, calling back over her shoulder, “Absolutely.” She leaves with a smile on her face and doesn’t even feel the familiar envy filling her up when she passes Reese, Carter, and Harold all huddled together on the steps. Warmth clogs her veins and for the first time, she's being included.

 

.

 

Sameen sits there for a moment, staring at the goblet and watching Root disappear through the large doors, before she gets up herself, brushing off her robes and waltzing down the steps. She's on her way to learn some of the layout of at least a part of the castle. She has to brush her past a few students and heads to the large double doors.

“Shaw, right?” She stills when a voice breaks through the small murmur, turning to see a tall boy flanked by a smaller one and a girl, donning what Sameen has learned are Gryffindor colors.

“Yeah.” She sizes up the boy. the girl looks at her fondly and Sameen returns the favor, albeit a bit uneasily. “I’m afraid I don’t know you.”

“John Reese.” He holds out a hand for her to shake and she takes it, admiring his iron-tight grip. “And this is Joss.”

“Joss Carter,” the girl says, rolling her eyes. Sameen nods, politely and the only way she knows how. "Sorry for the broody treatment," Joss continues, gesturing toward John. She leans in, whispering. "He's trying to intimidate you."

John shakes his head, scowling goodnaturely.

The smaller boy pushes his glasses up on his nose. “I’m Harold Finch.” He smiles serenely at her, like he knows something she doesn't, and she's a bit unnerved, taking in the Ravenclaw colors (she'd memorized them after meeting Root) before turning her gaze back to John.

“Anyway.” John presses his lips together and smiles at her, just a bit. “I just wanted to say good luck. I’ve heard about you from some friends and if anyone’s going to get it, it’s you.”

She shrugs. “Maybe." She relents after a moment, smirking. "I’ve never heard of you, but I hope you're it.” It’s the polite thing to say, although she can’t really help herself from adding, “Just so I can crush you.”

He smiles, chuckling under his breath. “We’ll see about that.”

“I guess we will." She matches his gaze despite him being a good half a foot taller.

He claps her on the shoulder and moves to brush past her. “May the best win,” he says underneath his breath, so his friends can’t hear.

“So, me," she responds.

He shakes his head, eyes twinkling with goodnatured mischief and says, “Not a chance.”

He leaves and Sameen finally smiles, just a bit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've got this thing mostly planned out and I'm looking forward to the ride. Also, Sameen being the star child of Durmstrang, anyone? Dang.
> 
> Special thanks to [thedorkone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thedorkone/profile) for helping me on some of the finer details and continuing to help me.


	2. must be so proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've only talked twice and already Root's occupying Sameen's thoughts. Great.

Sameen’s name is spit from the goblet and absolutely no one is surprised.

Brooks is annoyed, Grice is ecstatic, and Hersh looks… _proud_. She feels a warmth in her chest like timber catching fire, the only thing making the burning piece of paper in her hand worth anything. When she grasps Hersh’s hand, he gives her a firm nod and a whispered, “I’m proud of you, Shaw,” when he thinks nobody is listening. She hears it and the warmth increases even more. And when he says, “And your parents would be, too,” she only nods back before disappearing.

She wants to feel the icy touch of the Triwizard Cup in her hands, and she knows that the only way is to win.

John’s name comes next, fiery slip of paper vaulting through the air. Sameen wonders, briefly, if Joss Carter is at least a little jealous. He looks like he’d give it up for her if he could, showing off with a warm smile in Joss’ direction before he gets up, but Sameen and everyone else know that it doesn’t work that way. There isn’t any declining when the goblet chooses _you_.

The champion chosen from Beauxbatons is a stocky blonde, Martine Rousseau. Her smile is electric and she bares white teeth as she stalks toward the front, posture almost perfect. She looks around the room as she walks to the front like she expected this, a spark in her eyes. It unnerves Sameen, though she brushes it off as the girl stalks directly toward her.

“Martine,” the girl introduces later, holding out her hand to Sameen when they’re away from the crowd and it’s just the three of them. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” The three of them are led to a large room full of ornate objects, though Martine only has eyes for Sameen.

“Really?” Sameen shakes her hand. “Can’t say the same.”

John stands off to the side, taking in the surroundings, and Sameen watches Martine’s dark eyes skirt over to him, like she’s skimming ice. She smiles, the expression hard and distant, and says, “I look forward to competing with you both.”

Sameen keeps her mouth shut, just shy of biting her own tongue. She swallows the retort that bubbles to the surface, reminiscent of all the times her lack of a filter has gotten her in indescribable amounts of trouble, though the words still threaten to spill.

John smiles, a slight curve on his lips, and Sameen can tell there’s a difference in him with Martine than when he was with her; she sees the lack of friendly competition in his eyes as he says, “You, too.”

 

.

  
  


Later on, Sameen wanders through the castle and realizes, not for the first time, how big it really is.

That fact had hit her when she’d gotten lost the night of the ceremony, but now she’s lost again with nothing that looks the least bit familiar in sight. And there’s no Root to save the day, which Sameen would be kind of grateful for despite falling into a repetitive damsel in distress trope. It’s getting kind of old, but regardless, Sameen kind of wants to see her. She hadn’t spotted Root back at the feast after the naming of the champions, and she wonders where Root goes when she disappears like that.

They’ve only talked twice and already she’s occupying Sameen’s thoughts. Great.

Sameen stops and glares at a painting. “Where’s the Slytherin dormitory?” Slytherin because the place she’s been instructed to sleep doesn’t really have a name and she’s about seventy-five percent sure she’ll be able to get there from Slytherin’s general direction.

“Why should I tell you.” The man in the painting looks everywhere but her, his arms crossed and his voice venom.

Sameen sighs, considers threatening a _painting_ with small amounts of dark magic, but decides against it. “Whatever, thanks,” she says as she turns around, determined by this point to find it on her own.

“No -- wait!” She turns around, her eyebrows knit together and her lips pursed, before he tells her the general directions. She follows them, finding her way back to the set of bedrooms that the Durmstrang students have been allowed to stay in. Sameen sits on the edge of her bed and lets her cloak slide from her shoulders, sighing.

Falling back onto the bed, she traces the lines of the ceiling with her gaze.

An unimpressed sound comes from the edge of the room and Sameen’s head rolls, turning toward her hawk, still sitting in its cage with dark, beady eyes staring right through her. She points her wand lazily toward the cage and the door flies open, the hawk hopping over a few steps until it’s next to her. It pecks at her shoulder, beak gripping the hard fabric of her clothing and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll feed you.” She sits up suddenly, scratching between amber-colored feathers. “Lazy bird.”

She settles beside the animal and thinks about Martine, about the competition, and wonders what the first event could even be. She remembers hearing about previous ones, how students had died during the competition and that was the reason it was outlawed. She feels a jolt of excitement flow through her and her hawk makes a small sound when her fingers stop scratching his feathers. She resumes, smiling to herself.

She has the distinct feeling that she’ll like getting to stretch her magical wings with this competition and she’s deciding more and more everyday that maybe, she really was made for this.

 

.

 

Root sneaks out of the castle and stumbles upon Harold sitting in the courtyard and she feels the sinking urge to go and sit with him. She does, wondering if she’ll regret it, but buries down the thought as she goes and settles down beside him.

“Hello,” she greets, gazing around the two of them at the trees blowing in the wind and the dark sky. “It’s kind of cold out here, Harry.”

“Yes, well,” Harold replies, looking over at her. They’d been friends, the best, a long time ago before Root had found another and Harold had found John, and she still feels the strong kinship in his company. “John and the others are still inside celebrating.”

Root hums, curling her fingers around the stone bench and tapping her toes on the ground. She knows what it’s like to feel excluded, especially by Harold and his friends.

“I’m a little full,” Harold explains, looking down at the ground. “Though I am happy for him, I wish it was Joss or -- or someone else.”

Root shrugs. “You’re worried. I would be, too. There’s some tough competition.”

Harold looks at her like he knows something that she doesn’t and maybe he does, but it doesn’t mean that she cares all that much. It only means that she’s out of the loop, like always, and once Sameen leaves to go back to Durmstrang, she’ll be alone once again, like always.

“Yes,” Harold agrees. “The girl from Durmstrang seems very…”

“Intense?” Root offers, a smile forming around the word. She knows the word is a perfect fit for Sameen, having placed it on the other girl various times herself.

“Or pragmatic,” Harold says. “A bit like you, I suppose.”

Root doesn’t say anything to that, her back stiffening. She wonders if Harold knows about her and Sameen’s growing friendship, which, she supposes, wouldn’t be hard to guess at if anyone saw them in the goblet room together. She hopes Harold is at least a little bit jealous. It serves him right.

After a very long moment, Harold says, “I’m sorry,” and Root looks up.

“For what?”

“For leaving you after Hanna. I acted as though we were never friends and when you seemed content to leave it that way, I told myself it was because you were.”

Root feels the old familiar feeling creeping back up her throat and wants to crawl into a corner, curl in on herself, but she holds it together. She doesn’t know what to say, having never gotten a formal apology from her old friend, and she only feels the hurt that she felt the day that he’d stopped talking to her and started talking to someone new, fresh as an open wound.

“I’m okay,” Root tells him, brushing her shoulder with his. “Have been for years.” She wonders if he hears it as an acceptance.

“If we could start anew,” he wonders, looking at her.

“We can,” she confirms, nodding. “I’d like that.” She would, despite everything.

“Me, too, Sam,” he says, smiling at her.

She chuckles, cocking her head. “Please Harold, call me Root.”

 

.

  
  


The next morning, the school is back to its regular schedule. The first competition of the tournament isn’t for another few days and Root has homework in almost all of her classes. If she wasn’t good at magic, she might be a little annoyed, but she’s talented and doesn’t mind if it means that she learns.

Besides, the Durmstrang students are supposed to be taking classes with Slytherin, so when Sameen shoulders her way in through the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Root already has a spot waiting for her. She watches as Sameen gives a nod to her two friends and then looks across unfamiliar faces, her eyes finally landing on Root. Root smiles, pats the space beside her that she’d waited for (she’d gotten there early just to make sure she got an empty table), and though Sameen doesn’t smile back, she makes her way down the aisle to sit next to Root.

She doesn’t say a word as she pulls out some borrowed Hogwarts books from her bag and seems to be ignoring the way that Root is grinning at her.

“What?” She finally meets Root’s gaze, her own frown contrasting Root’s smile like winter and summer solstice.

Root shrugs and turns to the front of the classroom, where their fool of a teacher is getting the materials ready for a lesson. “Nothing.”

“You were looking at me weird.”

“Was I?” She’s the picture of innocence, brow skyrocketing and lips pressed together. Sameen isn’t impressed. “I don’t recall.”

Sameen shakes her head. “Whatever, then.”

Root can tell that she’s irritated, but she’s confident in her abilities to read people. She’s positive that she’s growing on Sameen, and she can tell that the other girl is warming up to her.

Casually, she leans over and reads Sameen’s notes. It’s almost unintelligible, the handwriting a quick scrawl and hardly legible, but Root manages. Sameen doesn’t seem to notice or care what she’s doing so she continues doing it, reading the notes with a delicate precision required for most spells.

“What are you learning in this class, anyway,” Sameen asks under her breath, so as not to be heard by the teacher who has launched himself into a long rant about Inferi and what they are, despite everyone knowing.

“Defense.” She says it like it’s obvious before rolling her head to the side. “Hence the name. Not much in the offense category.”

“Useless,” Sameen mutters as the teacher stops his long winded speech.

The teacher’s gaze traverses students’ faces, expectant. “Who can tell me what spells work as defense against Inferi?”

“A firestorm,” Sameen answers. From the look on the teacher’s face, Sameen can tell that he wasn’t exactly expecting an answer, least of all from her. Root turns to look at her, surprised by the outburst as well. Sameen continues, “Anything with heat and light, pretty much.”

“Good!” the teacher croons and unlike Root, Sameen’s expression remains neutral and she shrugs, brushing it off.

Root grins at her, leaning in like she’s sharing a secret. “I have a feeling that you know more than you’re letting on.” Her voice is dangerous and she feels the itch of her own wand in her pocket. She’s always wanted to learn more destructive spells and she’s getting an idea of someone who can be her teacher.

Sameen looks at her. “Not really.” She flashes her teeth at Root, although she doesn’t smile. “I know how to actually cast a spell, rather than just talk about it.”

Root nods, staring at Sameen’s profile. “Will you teach me?”

Surprise crosses Sameen’s features for a brief moment before it morphs into uncertainty. She taps her fingers on the desk and takes a long while to answer, all while Root’s mind is going a mile a minute. She doesn’t even know what she wants to learn, but she’d heard that they teach dark magic at Durmstrang and Root, despite herself, wants to actually learn how to do anything besides disarm.

Finally, Sameen cracks her neck to the side, the movement thick and methodical. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Outside of class, then,” Root says, getting more excited by the second.

“Obviously.” Sameen chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “On one condition.”

With her eyes glittering, Root leans closer. “Anything.”

“You have to help me with the tournament.” She feels awkward asking for help and she has no doubt that she looks it. Root can read between the lines; she knows that Sameen has never been to Hogwarts before now and is at a disadvantage. She’ll need all the help she can get, really.

“Well,” Root says, grinning, “I wasn’t going to help _John_.”

Sameen smiles at her for a half second and Root’s own expression faltering as she’s caught off guard. She decides that her main goal during Sameen’s time here will be to make Sameen smile more and often, for what it does to Root’s insides it too precious to waste.

Sameen’s smile makes her feel like she’s done something right, for a change, and she never wants to give it up.

 

.

 

“I know it’s here someplace.”

“Look -- if you can’t, uh, find this hidden room that you’re completely convinced exists, it’s cool. I understand.”

“I’m serious, Sameen. The last time --”

“The last time you had someone teach you magic illegally? Awesome. What happened to them?”

Root pauses and sends an unamused glare towards Sameen. She’d been running her hands across the bricks of Hogwarts for a really long time and Sameen is bored, standing off to the side as she watched. She’s not even convinced this secret room exists and she’s this close to being done with indulging Root.

Sameen can’t tell if Root’s annoyed or upset. Maybe both. “I didn’t use it for _magic_ ,” Root argues, looking back at the wall and sighing. She rests her forehead against the cool, hard surface. She knows that it’s here and she knows, deep down that she really, really needs it, so why isn’t it showing up?

“Well,” Sameen says. “What then? If not for magic.”

Root doesn’t understand how an eighteen year-old can be so clueless. Honestly, what else is she going to use a secret room in the castle for? She turns back to Sameen and smiles, so sweet Sameen feels like she might get a cavity. “If we can find it, I promise to show you.” Root hopes that her smirk gives its intended effect and, judging from the dawning realisation on Sameen’s face, it does. Root turns back to the wall.

“That’s -- well… Uh,” Sameen tries, recovering very well, considering. She concludes with a muttered, “whatever” and Root smirks at the hard brick. Truthfully, she wouldn’t mind using the Room of Requirement for things other than magic, but she also needs Sameen to show her what she knows, so Root hopes that she doesn’t get too distracted by the other girl.

“Come on,” Root relents, deciding that it’s probably not in this hallway if she’s spent so much time with this wall. “Let’s try the next one.” She tries not to listen to Sameen’s groan, a short hesitance before the shorter girl follows after Root, her feet echoing on the ground.

And, to Root’s happiness and irritation, the Room of Requirement door appears before them as they enter the next hallway. Root turns to Sameen sharply, finding her leaning against the wall and watching the door. Their gazes meet after a moment and Sameen stares, confused. “What?”

“You did something,” Root mutters, but she goes forward nonetheless, pushing through the doors after checking to make sure that no one else is coming. She ushers Sameen in and closes the door not a moment after.

Looking around, Sameen breathes, “I was only hungry,” as she takes in the entire room. It’s small, not as big as it was the first time Root had used it, but there’s a mat in the middle of the floor and mirrors on one side of the wall and some food in the corner that Sameen beelines toward. Root takes more time, taking in the entire atmosphere as she strips out of her traditional robes, revealing a black tank top.

She goes over to Sameen, only to find her stuffing her face with the energy bars that were sitting on a bench and that are no longer existing. Sameen chews thoughtfully, leaning back in a chair.

“So,” Root tries, sitting down next to her, “What are we going to do first?”

“Not sure yet,” Sameen tells her, not even looking in Root’s direction. She instead stares at the bar in her hand, glaring at it like it’s offended her or spit on the name of her family.

Root sighs, sitting next to her for quite some time. She listens to Sameen chew, the sound loud and unpleasant, until she can’t really stand it anymore. She wants to learn, she wants the magic to flow through her like she knows it will when Sameen starts to teach her. She stands up and starts to pace, tapping her fingers on her thigh as she walks back and forth.

“Hey,” Sameen says. Root stills. “Stop that.”

“Are you even going to teach me anything today?” She can’t help with how whiny her voice sounds, but she’s desperate and she was so excited to start today.

Sameen crumples up the wrapper and throws it off to the side, unbuttoning her own cloak and robes and letting it fall from her shoulders. Root lets herself look, taking in Sameen’s strong and rippling shoulders, revealed in her tank, and her even stronger middle, flexing underneath thin, black fabric. Root stops pacing.

Sameen clears her throat, tongue running over her teeth. “Look, before you learn my kind of magic, you’ve got to learn to throw a punch or two.”

“Punching?” Root’s doubtful.

“Yeah,” Sameen mocks, smiling now. “Ever heard of it?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Root echoes. “That’s what muggles do.”

Sameen rolls her eyes. “Are you seriously telling me that you expect to always have your wand with you? That you’re always going to be able to use magic to defend yourself?”

Root crosses her arms and doesn’t understand where Sameen is going with this. “There is such a thing where you can use magic without a wand.”

“Not in the direction you’re headin’,” Sameen tells her, and Root doesn’t let the hurt flare in her chest for too long.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sameen advances on her, and Root tries not to let her breath catch in her throat. There’s a look in the other girl’s eyes that she can’t quite read and she doesn’t know if it scares her. Sameen holds her hands up, palms facing Root and for a moment, she looks like she’s going to hit her, but she doesn’t. Sameen murmurs, voice deep and under her breath, “Do you see my wand anywhere?”

It takes Root a long moment before she shakes her head no.

“That’s because I know, even if you’re fully armed with the small amount of magic you do know, I could take you right here and now.” Root doesn’t let herself think about the different meanings of ‘take’ and what connotation means what. “ _That’s_ what I’ve been learning,” Sameen continues, “along with how to integrate magic with the martial arts.”

She’s close to Root, though it feels like they’re miles away because Root’s at least four inches taller.

Sameen stares at her. “You’ve got a lot to learn before you can just drop into dark magic. Not everyone’s made for it, either.” She turns away after that, and Root gets the feeling that she’s implying something, implying that there’s a slight chance that Root might not be good enough to manipulate the Dark Arts.

“I am.” Root’s voice doesn’t feel like her own, sounding lost and so, so far away. She clears her throat and catches her breath, doing her best to ignore the way the light falls on the muscles of Sameen’s back. “I’m ready,” she reiterates. “For whatever you want me to do.”

Sameen turns around, staring Root down like they’re opponents on opposite ends of a wrestling ring, like she’s ready to do whatever it takes. As Sameen shrugs, the offer standing in the air, Root wants to be ready, too.

The corner of Sameen’s lips curl up, just a bit. “Let’s get started, then.”

  
  
  
  
  



	3. to the veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy breathing serenades the thick atmosphere of the room, and sweat licks their skin in a sheen of light and perspiration as Root pushes up against Sameen, though it’s getting her nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick thing -- this might be a little out of order from the events in the book/movie, mostly because when I first started planning this story I had an idea of how their relationship would develop and got the events completely out of order... but I'm sticking to it! It's not a big stretch, mostly what happens before and after the Yule Ball. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

The second time they go to the Room of Requirement is a lot easier than the first.

A new day, Root is ready to go at it again. The two of them had spent most of yesterday talking, sitting side by side against a wall of mirrors. Sameen had explained to Root how it worked at Durmstrang, going into the specifics of martial magic. Sameen had been so passionate, her words almost blurring together and her hands moving to illustrate her conversation, and Root had marveled, feeling excitement course through her at having a teacher who seems to love the craft.

And today, they don’t have any classes to distract them, any events to get in their way, nothing to do except for Root to learn and for Sameen to teach.

Sameen had stretched for about an hour after waking up before she'd left to meet Root outside the Slytherin common room. Now, they’re making their way to the Room of Requirement, Sameen only having a vague idea of where exactly they are in the castle.

Root stills, a falter in her step. "It should be around here somewhere."

"Great. We're lost." Sameen’s being dramatic, but Root’s getting used to it.

She sends Sameen a playful glance. "Patience, Sameen."

She runs her hands against a wall and sure enough, the wall itself starts to disappear. Replacing it is a door, tall and heavy and full of all kinds of locks Sameen is both intrigued and a little worried by. Regardless, Root pushes her way inside and they're greeted with a different room than last night, this one smaller, but less dusty and more comfortable. There's a mat on the ground and, to Sameen's delight, some sparring supplies in a corner.

She walks straight over to them, picking up tape and feeling it with her fingers. Her fingers itch to feel flesh against her knuckles again; she hasn’t punched anyone since she was back at her own school and the feeling flares up in aching memory.

"Are we finally fighting today?" Root's voice is right behind her, full of hope, and Sameen thanks everything she can think of that she manages not to jump out of her skin, not having heard the other girl come up.

She shrugs, pulling her robe over her head and off. "I'm going to come at you," she proposes, words thick like syrup as she thinks of a plan, "and you're going to show me what you know." She’s not sure that this is a good way to start genuine training with Root, but she also has no clue where the other girl stands when it comes to fighting without a wand. Sameen rolls her shoulders and cracks her neck.

She turns to Root and doesn't miss the blatant look over that traverses her own skin. She's wearing a blank tank and jeans -- Sameen's used to wearing less when sparring with someone like Grice. Root's eyes finally land back on her face as she says, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Sameen crooks a smile, advancing. She's in Root's space a moment later. "What, you don't think you can take me?" She lowers her voice and watches Root gulp, though the other girl does stand her ground. Sameen continues, "You wanted this. Me. You've got it. Don't tell me you're backing out now."

Root's gaze turns to concrete. "Never."

"Okay," Sameen agrees. She softens after a moment, realizing that she hasn’t  offered Root a specific explanation for all of this. “Trust me,” she tries, voice just a tad gentler than before, “this is what I had to go through to get where I am today. Just -- it took me years before they put a wand in my hand. I’m going a lot easier on you. All right?”

The mirth returns to Root's features and she smirks, leaning into Sameen's space. "As long as I learn something." Root stalks away from her, pulling her robe up and off, revealing a slim fitting long sleeve tee. She reaches up to tie her hair back and Sameen clears her throat. She waits until Root’s ready, or seemingly so, and puts her fists in the air in front of her face.She turns to Root and waits for the other girl to get the hint, indicating that she should follow Sameen’s lead.

"Good to start?" Sameen asks, mostly because she needs the permission, but an irritated flame burns inside her when Root bites her bottom lip and cocks her head to the side.

"Absolutely."

 

.

 

One hour and fourty-five minutes later, Root is pinned underneath Sameen and she's  _losing_ , which is unacceptable, the latter more so than the former.

Heavy breathing serenades the thick atmosphere of the room, and sweat licks their skin in a sheen of light and perspiration as Root pushes up against Sameen, though it’s getting her nowhere. It’s futile -- Sameen just pushes down harder, the angle that Root’s arms are bent sending a spark of pain through her shoulders and she can’t help the small sound that crawls its way up her throat.

Sameen sits up, releasing her, with a concerned expression on her face. “Did I --”

Root knocks her off balance and rolls them over, pinning Sameen to the mat with a hard push, knocking the air out of the smaller girl’s lungs. She hears it, the sound of the oxygen being forced out, and she grins as Sameen squeezes her eyes closed, her head pushing back into the mat as far as she can to absorb the shock. Root’s not sure if it’s the shock of pain or the shock of losing.

“Fuck,” Sameen breathes out after a long minute, opening her eyes. Root towers over her, fingers clenched around Sameen’s wrists as she pins her arms above her head. Her thighs are on either side of Sameen’s hips and she’s elated that she’s won, that the fight seems to have left the girl beneath her, but she doesn’t dare let up any of the pressure. “That’ll get you somewhere,” Sameen chokes out, her voice hoarse and heavy. “Playing the victim.”

“I’m not a victim,” Root argues, nails biting in the skin of Sameen’s wrist.

“No, yeah, I get that,” Sameen sighs, her stomach flexing beneath Root. “I just meant that it was a smart move. Playing on compassion.”

“Oh.” Root processes the comment, the _compliment_ , and the fact that it’s coming from Sameen Shaw of all people (maybe the grouchiest person she’s ever met). “Thanks.” She doesn’t even attempt to hide the smile that blooms on her face as she thinks about the entire situation more, because she just pinned down Durmstrang's Triwizard Champion to a mat.

Sameen tests Root’s weight against her and sighs, irritated. “You can let go now.”

“Right,” Root breathes, letting go of Sameen’s wrists and sliding a leg off of her. Sameen lies there for a long moment, her ponytail spread out behind her head as Root settles in a cross-legged position next to her, before she rolls up, getting to her feet in one, swift motion. She undoes her ponytail and runs a hand through her hair and Root watches her as she shakes it out, fingers untangling it before she ties it up again.

She turns. “We’re done for today.”

No _you did good_ or _we’ll do more tomorrow,_ but Root can tell that she’s done well. She doesn’t know exactly how, but she feels Sameen’s irritation only bubbling at the surface instead of overflowing. She knows that she’s onto something.

Root gets up and stretches, walking over to where she discarded her robes earlier. She puts them on before heading over to stand next to Sameen, who either ignores her or just doesn’t care. She makes a choice, right then and there, and decides it’s worth the risk.

She leans in before Sameen can do anything, presses her lips to Sameen’s cheek, just a brush against skin, and then she’s gone, evacuating as soon as she sees Sameen’s hand clench into a fist.

At the door, she turns around and sees that Sameen still hasn’t moved. “Thank you,” she calls out. “Next time?”

“Sure,” is all she gets in response before she slides out the door.

 

.

 

Sameen’s heading back to her own room when she’s stopped, a nice, even voice breaking the heavy silence weighing down on her ever since Root’s lips had brushed against her cheek. She turns to find Martine stalking toward her with strong, purposeful steps. Sameen makes the conscious decision to stop and wait for the other girl, glad to find someone who isn’t much taller than she is, sticking out her chin as she watches Martine catch up with her.

“I’m glad that we have this moment to chat,” Martine says, flashing her a smile that, at this point, is almost becoming a trademark. It’s without teeth and more of a smirk than anything, and Sameen can tell that it isn’t the least bit friendly. Blonde hair, pulled back tight, Martine gazes at her almost coldly.

"You are?" Sameen fires back. "Because I'm already a little bored." She has no clue why Martine's stopped her and doesn't intend to ask.

"Sad," Martine murmurs. "I just wanted to offer you some luck for the competition."

"I think you're the only one who's going to need it."

Martine crosses her arms and shifts her weight, her smile faltering just a bit. "You're forgetting our history, Shaw, and most of all, you're forgetting that you and I've had the same training. In the end, all it will come down to is you and me."

"John's in there, too," Sameen reminds her, ignoring the unsettled feeling sliding underneath her skin. There's no way in hell she trusts Martine, though the other girl does have a bit of a point. She doesn't know how much better Martine is than her at controlling her magic, with certain spells, but from what she does know, Martine has never been shy about showing anyone. After the first event, she supposes she'll know both her opponents pretty well.

Martine shoots her a look, raising a brow dangerously. "He'll be there, yes, but he’s not a threat, Shaw.” Red lips curl. “Not like you.”

Sameen briefly entertains the thought of Martine incapacitating John, making it so he's unable to participate in the rest of the competition, and she's suddenly a bit apprehensive. "He's nothing," she agrees. "They don't teach the students how to do anything useful here; he won't get past the first challenge."

Martine looks at her like she knows something Sameen doesn't. "For his sake, I hope he doesn't," she murmurs. She turns and winks at Sameen, leaving her alone in the hallway. "Goodbye, Shaw. I'd say good luck, but we both know I wouldn't mean it."

“Not like I need it,” Sameen calls, steady eyes watching Martine disappear around the corner.

She wishes that she knew what the first challenge was, somehow, and knew how to prepare for it. That way, she'd have some kind of advantage over Martine. It would at the very least make her feel better, rather than the crawling feeling that reminds her of the ice-like gaze that had been there moments before.

 

.

 

Staring across the way, Root wonders if she knows more than Harold.

When they were first years, they used to pretend they were grown up and successful wizards, doing something amazing with their lives, and Root was always some kind of mastermind. She’d do that because when she was younger, she was jealous of his mastery and the way he seemed to best her at everything in the classes they shared. Which, granted, wasn’t much because Ravenclaw and Slytherin rarely saw each other.

That was one of the reasons she used to explain their loss of contact. There were many, though, and she knows that was only a small one.

She sighs, leaning forward to place her forearms on the long table. Her books are spread out on the table and she’s mostly alone on her part of it, no one near her. Harold’s alone, too, the two houses sharing the study hall.

She gets up and gathers the few books she has, holding them close to her chest as she pointedly avoids a professor’s gaze, before heading over to Harold and sitting down next to him. He looks up at her and she doesn’t miss the surprise that crosses his features, eyebrows raising behind his owl-eyed glasses.

“Hello, Harry,” she greets, opening her books once again like they’re good friends. Like this is normal.

He nods to her, a soft smile spreading across his face, and writes down a few notes. They sit in silence and continue to study, the companionship making Root feel better than she has in a long while.

 

.

 

Sameen really has to stop getting lost.

Maybe a map? Or something that will help her navigate this godforsaken school. She likes the occupants more than the area to be occupied, though no one can argue that the castle is striking. It’s brighter than Durmstrang and more hopeful, bringing out something within her that she finds odd. She likes the feeling, but hates the fact that she keeps getting lost. It’s beginning to seem like every time she leaves where she’s staying or the Great Hall she loses her way and it’s infuriating.

She sees Root coming down a staircase out of nowhere and rolls her eyes, despite herself. They’ve got to stop meeting like this.

She leans against the wall and looks at the opposite bricks, anything to drag her attention from the soft footfalls that belong to her new friend. She hears Root speed up. “Sameen!” Her voice echoes in the cavernous hallway and she sounds more excited than she’s ever been. “This is great; I was just looking for you.”

Sameen decides not to admit that she was lost. “You were?”

“Of course.” Root smiles widely and Sameen is just getting used to the expression, and almost getting used to the odd fluttering she feels in the pit of her stomach when Root smiles and looks at her in the same moment. Root grabs her arm. “Come with me.”

She lets Root lead her down the hallway and toward what she hopes is the Great Hall; she’s supposed to be meeting Grice for dinner and she’s really banking on Brooks not being there. Root is oddly silent as they weave their way through the maze that is Hogwarts and after a few turns down unfamiliar hallways, Sameen clears her throat. “Okay, you’ve got to tell me something.”

“Shoot,” Root says, but she doesn’t stop walking. Her hand rests lightly on Sameen’s arm and is guiding her, somewhat. It feels normal.

Sameen cranes her neck to look around and see if she can recognize where they are. “How do you get around this place?” She doesn’t let the irritation drip into her voice; she doesn’t want Root to know that she cares about navigating her way around as much as she does. “I’ve gotten lost two times now.”

Root looks back at her, chuckling. “You were lost when I found you, weren’t you?”

Sameen scowls and reserves her right not to answer the question.

Regardless, Root continues, “It’s easy. You just have to feel the castle. There’s something about it that makes it… speak to you, I guess. Can you feel that?”

Sameen shakes her head as Root leads them down some steps. “No.”

“Guess it’s not for everyone, then.” Root sounds like she’s smiling, though Sameen can’t see her face. Her fingers itch and she kind of wants to punch the expression off of Root, but she shouldn’t be punching new friends, especially new friends who are being so nice to her despite her own reservations.

Root takes her outside and Sameen is grateful that she’s wearing her cloak. Root’s released her hold and with the evening wind blowing, Sameen almost misses the contact. Almost. She follows Root across a bridge and they start toward the shadowy depths of the Forbidden Forest. Sameen knows what it is; they were warned about it when they first arrived. Now, she only finds herself curious as they stalk towards it, shadows tugging at their clothing the closer they get.

Root shoots her an apologetic glance. “Sorry we have to do this.”

“If you’re going to kill me, you’ll be in for a hell of a ride.” Sameen stares right back at her as they stand at the edge of the forest. She can see Root’s hand buried in her robes, whether her fingers are hiding from the cold or wrapped around her wand, she doesn’t know.

“I’m sure.” Root smirks at her. “As much as I’d like to test that, we have something more serious to discuss.”

“That is?”

Root looks past her shoulder, up at the lights of the castle, then glances into the dark woods behind them. “Not here. Come on.”

Sameen follows -- she doesn’t know why, but she does. They’ve walked a little while before Sameen hears some voices up ahead and instinctually, she moves closer to Root.

“Why, Sameen,” Root breathes, leaning into her. “Are you scared?”

Sameen ignores her. “What are we doing here?”

Grabbing her arm, Root pulls her to a bush. “Look over there.”

Sameen does, popping her head out from behind the bush. She’s assaulted with light, firelight, and it takes a moment before it all registers. “Are those --”

“Dragons,” Root confirms.

She can’t tear her eyes away, watching men wrestle the large creatures and dodge angry bursts of flame. She’s never seen one up close, but she’s always wanted to. Her father used to tell her stories about the dragon’s he had to face and she’d always wanted to touch one. After a long moment, firelight reflecting in her brown eyes, she remembers where she is and who she’s with. “Why are we here?”

Root nudges her arm. “Because this is the first challenge.”

Sameen watches a man get a headful of fire and yell for help, quickly being doused by another wizard. She feels something swell in her chest and she smiles, at last very excited for the events to come.

Watching her, Root can’t help but smile, too. “I told you I’d help.” She kind of wants to grab Sameen’s hand and squeeze, but she holds herself back, deciding that the ignition in Sameen’s eyes is prize enough for the lengths it took for her to figure this out.

Sameen tears her eyes away from the dragons. “I don’t even want to know how you found this.”

“I wouldn’t tell you even if you asked,” Root murmurs, bottom lip between her teeth. “A girl has to maintain an air of mystery.”

Sameen stares at her, eyes dark and Root stares right back. Sameen’s eyes drift to her lips but almost a second later she turns back to the dragons, like she was looking at something she wasn’t supposed, which, Root thinks ironically, is a certain type of hell. The moment is gone, but the echo of Sameen’s gaze still feels like it’s alongside them.

Root’s heart thunders in her ears, her cheeks going pink. She watches the dragons (and watches Sameen out of the corner of her eye) and she finally reaches over to grab Sameen’s hand, weaving their fingers together. Sameen doesn’t even respond, look at her, or make any indication that she notices, but Root relishes in the warmth that skyrockets up the nerves of her arms -- a warmth that doesn’t come from dragonfire.

 

.

 

Sameen lies, wide awake, on her bed and stares at the ceiling.

She’s thinking about her competition: about John, who gives her a smug look everytime he sees her, and about Martine Rousseau, who Sameen had never heard of previous to now, but she’s some sort of wonderkid back in France, if Grice’s word is to be trusted. She thinks about John’s friends and the colors John wears proudly on his sleeve and she thinks about Martine’s cold stare and the lack of emotion on her face when her name was called.

But mostly, she’s thinking about _dragons_.

The Hungarian Horntail was the one she’d seen with Root, while the others had been more contained. And that dragon was gorgeous; Sameen thinks repeatedly, dazedly about it breathing a column of fire. Standing so close to such a large, majestic beast had made her think about fire, about teeth and claws and snapping jaws.

Enough to make her heart race.

Later, Root had whispered to her that they needed to go and she’d all but dragged Sameen’s firelit eyes away from the creatures that she’d wished she could find a home with. The only thing saving her was knowing that she’ll be face to face with one tomorrow.

She should sleep. She can’t, but she should. Fire is seared in her brain and she runs through spells in her mind. She doesn’t think they’ll have the champions go face to face with a dragon just for the sake of it, so she’s at a loss with what spells, exactly, will work.

She falls asleep with dragon’s breath whispering in her ear while she remembers the warmth of Root’s hand in hers as she was lead back to the castle.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. blown their minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root has never wanted to kiss her more.

“Again.”

“Can’t we use magic?”

Sameen rolls her eyes. “Come at me, Root.”

Root pulls out her wand and Sameen mirrors her, bright light at the tip moments before Root's wand flies from her hand and across the room. The exchange happens without Sameen saying a word, and Root's opens her mouth, but can't find anything to say.

Sameen stares at her and pockets her wand. “Again.”

Root glares, lifting her fists in front of her face. Sameen is practically air, light on her feet, bouncing. Sameen's even going easy on her, hours before the first task. The two of them have been fighting fist to fist for the past hour, Sameen amount up Root's training for the sake of them both ever since Root showed her dragons.

Executing a few of the moves that Sameen has shown her, Root lunges. Feeling like her feet are barely touching the ground, she weaves through an imaginary maze, dodging punches and throwing them, too. She’s hitting air, mostly, and Sameen’s not hitting back, but Root's been getting better. Finally, when she’s getting out of breath and more than a little irritated, her fist connects with Sameen’s shoulder.

Sameen grunts, stepping away from her. “Alright," she concedes. One good shot out of, what, fifty punches?”

“More like a hundred,” Root mutters, letting her fists fall. She sighs, wiping sweat from her forehead.

“Don’t get dejected.” Sameen walks over to the edge of the room, grabbing a towel from the floor. “You’re getting better. And you’re keeping me in shape, I guess.”

Root rolls her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. “What’s next?”

Sameen shrugs, wiping her face. “I thought that we’d be done for the day.”

“Well,” Root objects, “I don’t have much else to do for awhile.” Neither of them do, not until the first task.

“No.” Sameen makes to go. “I’m leaving.” She starts to head out and just as she’s passing Root, Root strikes out, catching Sameen behind the knees and jostling her off balance. She trips, taking a few steps, before turning to glare at Root, the expression cut off when Root comes after her, fighting with all she knows how, and forgoing all that Sameen has taught her. She manages to get a punch to Sameen’s gut and hears the air leave Sameen’s lungs, the whoosh near her ear.

Sameen’s gaze is venom and she retaliates by punching Root square in the jaw. It hurts, splitting pain, and Root cries out, a hand flashing to her face. She stumbles away from Sameen and steels herself, flexing her jaw and cracking her head side to side. When she looks up, Sameen is regarding her evenly, ready for whatever move Root is going to make.

Root tastes blood in her mouth and she pushes herself forward, not really knowing how she’s going to hurt Sameen, only knowing that she needs to prove herself, needs to move onto the next step of this training, or whatever this is.

Sameen grabs her hands when they come up to punch her face, stopping her, and somehow, the two of them stumble to the ground, Sameen to her knees and pushing Root onto her back. She pins Root’s hands above her head and puts a hand around Root’s throat, digging her fingers into soft flesh, hard enough to bruise, but not hard enough to choke.

Root heaves against her, breathing erratic and heavy. She glares, pushing at the hand holding her arms down until she gives up, a deep exhale escaping her chest.

Sameen clenches her jaw. “Are you done now,” she growls, her voice low and annoyed, lip curling.

“Yes,” Root says, not meeting Sameen’s eyes. “Are _you_ done?” She sighs. “We could be using this energy for something far more enjoyable.” Her voice cracks and she lets her head fall to the side, looking at the mat sideways.

Sameen releases her wrists, sitting up, shifting her weight on Root’s stomach. She keeps the hand on Root’s throat, but her thumb slides along the curve of Root’s jaw and angles her head upward.

Sameen ducks down and kisses her, swallowing up the surprised sound that comes out of Root’s throat with a hard press of her lips. The kiss leaves Root feeling warm and dizzy and it's a long moment before she responds, her lips moving against Sameen's. Her hands press against Root’s cheeks and Root molds against her, arching up against her when Sameen’s tongue pushes past her lips.

It’s Sameen who pulls back, eyes wide. She scrambles off Root like she’s been burned, going to the other side of the room. Root looks after her, propping herself up on her elbows.

Sameen glances back at her, a quick look as she packs up her stuff and puts her robes back on. “That didn’t happen,” she says, brusque and defendant.

Root’s lips are still tingling with warmth, with _Sameen_ , and it definitely did happen. Regardless, she nods. “Right.”

“I’m leaving,” Sameen tells her for the second time, though this time she’s not lying and she leaves Root alone on the floor, both of them with lips still tingling.

“Bye.” Root’s voice fills an empty room. She falls back onto the mat and lets out a long breath.

 

.

 

It’s the first task, and Root stands in the crowd, buried in her robes and her scarf hot against her mouth.

She knows what’s going to happen, what the craggy rock below them is for, but she finds herself thinking about the other students -- about whether any of them accidentally stumbled across dragons. She spots Harold a moment later, standing alone, and she pushes her way through the stands to get to him. It’s a rare moment that he’s alone and she loves talking to him (not that she’d ever tell him, or anyone else, that fact).

She settles beside him and can see the gears in his brain working as he scans the rock. She leans closer. “Dragons.”

He jumps, though she doubts that he didn’t notice her come closer. “Pardon?”

She shrugs, turning her gaze back to the area. “I found them in the Forbidden Forest.” She doesn’t offer any further explanation, even though she can feel Harold’s probing gaze.

“Whatever were you doing _there_?” He stops, seems to rethink what he said, and amends, “Actually -- I don’t care to know. Did you see what kind?” His voice carries a tinge of worry and she knows that he’s thinking about John, who has absolutely no idea that dragons are the first task.

Root shrugs. “I’m not really a dragon expert.”

Harold scowls, looking increasingly worried, his low voice floats on the wind. “Do you think -- Will they have to _fight_ a dragon?”

“I have no idea,” she admits, but she hopes not. She’s more than sure that Sameen could handle it, but something about it tugs anxiously at the back of her mind.

Root waits and listens to the announcer, but before any student comes out from the cave, a huge dragon comes first, chained to a rock. Root’s mouth goes dry as she looks at the beast; she almost stops breathing. This dragon is the color of copper, rippling in the sunlight and standing out amongst the grey rocks. It’s then that Root notices the golden egg atop the highest rock.

“What breed is that?” Her voice is low, and she hopes she doesn’t sound worried.

“Peruvian Vipertooth.”

_That_ doesn’t sound promising. She wants Sameen to have another one, but she knows there isn’t going to be a good dragon.

John emerges from the mouth of the cave, and Root catches Harold’s sharp intake of breath. It’s obvious the boy on the rocks doesn’t notice the dragon settled above the cave; he only has eyes for the golden egg.

The dragon spits fire at him and narrowly misses; he struggles to his feet and hides behind a rock. The dragon roars and jumps from rock to rock, limber, and Root notices Harold’s hands clenching into fists and she can hear him muttering something under his breath, something that sounds suspiciously like a spell.

John calls out a spell, pointing his wand at a rock, and Root watches as the rock turns into a cow. She’s about to comment to Harold on how it won’t work, but apparently, the dragon is feeling generous. It gets distracted and goes for the easy prey, lunging for the cow and ripping it to shreds. Root rolls her eyes when plenty of students let out dramatic wails.

It almost seems too easy when John scrambles on top of the rock and gathers the golden egg in his hands. Harold is relieved, Root can tell, when a handler comes out to retrieve the beast.

The next one, a blonde from Beauxbatons, has to face a bigger dragon than the last. Root’s brows knit together and she leans closer to Harold. “What’s her name again?”

“Rousseau,” he answers. “Martine Rousseau.”

It fits her, Root decides; she watches the girl stand and stare the dragon down, each of them possessing a gaze that could kill. She plays with it, taunting, and Root can see Martine’s smile from where she’s sitting, the flash of white teeth sparkling, a piece of her coat smoking as she dodges fiery dragon breath. Next, the girl points her wand like she’s opening the morning paper, muttering a spell, too quiet for anyone in the audience to hear. The dragon convulses, wailing loudly and painfully, before falling over.

Root stares. “Did she just…”

“Oh, dear,” Harold murmurs, confirming her fears. He glances between Root and Martine, who’s walking up casually to the egg while the audience is completely silent, taking in what just happened “I don’t think that’s… allowed.”

Martine holds the egg in the air and then to her chest, smiling viciously. No one in the stands moves or makes a sound as she makes her exit. It’s some time before someone comes to get the dragon’s body; Root watches the man poke at it, probably to check and see if it’s really dead.

It’s not long before another dragon comes out, this one the biggest of them all. Root’s still too shocked to make much of a comment about it, but she feels her stomach sink. “And that one?”

“Hungarian Horntail.” Harold’s voice is helpful, but his words are anything but. This type of dragon is the only one that Root has ever heard of; it’s known for being the most dangerous breed and Sameen, tiny, broody Sameen will be facing it. Root remembers her comment in Defense Against the Dark Arts and hopes that her skills are as good as she’s been making them out to be.

The Durmstrang students erupt when Sameen shows her head out of the cave. She stands in the mouth of it, staring at the golden egg like it has personally offended her, but, unlike the others, she knows what’s waiting for her as soon as she steps from the cave. Sameen waits, testing the air and listening to the crowd, and then she emerges, ducking behind a rock as the roar of the dragon drowns out chants from the students.

She stands, points her wand at the rock underneath the dragon, and yells, “ _Reducto_!” Root watches the rock burst into pieces underneath the dragon’s feet, the large beast making a large, discontented sound.

It blasts fire at her and Sameen takes cover again. This time, when she emerges, the incantation that falls from her lips can’t be heard over the excitement of Root’s classmates. Sameen’s hand is steady and her wand is pointed directly at the dragon; Root’s eyes go wide when ropes appear out of nowhere and bind themselves around the legs of the creature, making it stumble with a large groan.

The dragon struggles in the ropes that wrap around its limbs like vines -- heaving a huge sigh before blowing fire, a cascading inferno burning the restraints. She scrambles up the edge of the rock to retrieve the egg before the dragon breaks free, but she still stands too close to the dragon for Root’s comfort. The crowd roars, louder than the dragon, when she holds the egg up into the air.

Root reaches up and touches her lips; brushing her fingers over them is a poor substitute for the hard press of Sameen’s against her own.

“We haven’t learned anything like that.” Harold’s voice tears her away from watching Sameen, a fire burning within her.

“No,” Root agrees. “We haven’t.” She bites her own lip, remembering her and Sameen’s sparring sessions.

Root watches Sameen stare the dragon down before leaving and Root escapes Harold with a muttered goodbye, completely and utterly intent on finding Sameen and doing so many things.

Root has never wanted to kiss her more.

 

.

 

Sameen is crowded by her fellow students, feeling a bit too pressured by the large amount of people. Headmaster Hersh stands in the corner and his lips are curved up, the faintest hint of a smile that blooms a small bit of pride in her chest. She feels weird about it, to say the least, stranger than the golden egg that she’s holding in her hands that everyone seems to be so curious about.

In truth, she has no idea what the egg is suppose to mean or do, only that it’s a clue for the next task.

She watches the egg be passed around before she hears someone clear their throat. Loudly. “Okay. Give Shaw some space.” That’s Hersh, pushing his way through the students, which he doesn’t really need to do because the moment he starts speaking they give him a wide berth. He holds the egg out to her and she finds herself wondering how he ended up with it. “Here. You’ve earned it.”

Of course she has. “Thank you,” she murmurs, feeling the cold press of the metal in her palms.

Students start to slide out of the dormitory and are off to better things. Hersh gives her a nod and disappears, and Sameen finds herself left alone with Grice and Brooks, the former beaming at her with something akin to admiration in his eyes.

“What do you think it does?” Grice’s voice is accompanied by Brooks’ usual groan as he rushes over to her, looking over the egg with an insatiable curiosity.

She shrugs, letting egg fall onto the bed. Watching it roll onto its side. Sameen is unimpressed.

Brooks, it seems, is as well. “I don’t get it,” she says. “What is this supposed to mean about the next task anyway.”

“Beats me,” Grice tells her. “These mind games were made for far smarter people.” He sits on the corner of the bed and taps the egg a few times, a hollow sound echoing throughout the room as he does it. “Maybe it… opens. Somehow.”

Sameen runs her fingers along the smooth surface of the egg and thinks that’s probably not it, but she’d much rather agree with Grice than satisfy Brooks’ eternal bad attitude. “I don’t know. It might.” She yawns, exaggerating the movement. “I should probably get some sleep. I’ll be sure to, uh, tell you guys if anything happens with it.” She lifts it up and settles the golden egg on a table.

“It’s almost dinner time,” Brooks argues, squinting at her. The suspicion in her tone is completely warranted and Sameen doesn’t blame her, mostly because she’s not going to bed any time soon, but she’s also not hungry. Which, she muses, is odd.

“And I just fought a dragon.”

“Brooks is right though.” Grice rubs the back of his neck, worried, and Sameen is getting a bit annoyed. He shrugs. “You never turn down food.”

“Fine,” she relents. “Just a goddamn nap. Give me a break.”

“Whatever.” Brooks turns around and leaves so abruptly that Sameen starts to think she almost enjoys Sameen’s company. Grice shoots her an almost apologetic look before making an exit as well.

“Hey, Grice?”

“Yeah?” He hovers at the edge of the doorway.

“If Hersh asks, just tell him I’m tired. I don’t know when I’ll turn up. Cool?”

He nods, flashing her a wide, toothy smile. “I gotcha, Shaw.”

 

.

 

Root doesn’t find Sameen.

In fact, she can’t find Sameen anywhere and she doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing because she’s sure that if she did corner Sameen right then, she wouldn’t necessarily be responsible for her actions. She’s not sure how the other girl would even react to Root’s affections, to start with, so she’s probably better off not finding her.

What she does find is the Hogwarts celebration of John Reese, who apparently deserves the world for transfiguring a rock into a cow.

Root doesn’t see the appeal.

She does, however, see Harold smiling at John from the crowd, and she makes her way over to him, sliding through the shouting crowd before arriving at his side. He turns to her and smiles half-heartedly, and Root takes it as a good sign.

She leans closer so he can hear her. “So, any news with the egg?”

They both look toward the object in question. Held in Joss Carter’s capable hands, the egg looks bigger than it did sitting on a rock while being guarded by a dragon. Root briefly entertains the thought that it probably looks even smaller in Sameen’s arms.

Harold sighs. It’s soft, and Root’s almost surprised that she hears it. “I’m not too sure,” he admits to her, sounding distressed.

“Have you even touched it yet?”

“I have,” he confirms, not tearing his gaze away. “I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. Obviously, it’s not a real dragon egg--”

Root rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

He gives her a withering glare but continues, “But I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean. Or do.”

Root thinks about the egg for a long moment, trying to decipher it herself. She talks about things, usually, out loud and with other people, but ends up keeping most things to herself. This time is no different, but it just so happens that Harold is on the other team and she really wants to have the revelation before he does. Or see what he knows. Either one works, in her opinion. “What about,” she pauses. “Can you open it at all?”

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Then, his eyes light up. “That’s it,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth turning up. “It’s not a matter of us opening it -- we need to wait for it to open on it’s own.”

Her heart had begun to sink when the realization settled in his gaze, but now she’s still completely lost and not sure that he’s on to something. “Say again?”

“A catalyst. Something common, something that will make it reveal what it has to say."

“Water.” The word falls from Root’s mouth before she can stop it, but she’s positive that Harold had come to the conclusion before she did. She’s one step closer, but now, so is John. She knows that Harold will most surely tell him.

But now she has something to hold over Sameen’s head, the shadow of a kiss and a promise.

“Bye, Harry.” She disappears before Harold says anything back, sure that he only has eyes for his best friend, desperate to share the new information in the privacy of their friend group. Like Root, who’s desperate to find Sameen.

She sets off, leaving the Great Hall as the people rush to fill the tables, food being conjured up on top of them. She doesn’t know where to start.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to look for long. She almost runs into Sameen as she rounds a corner, the shorter girl steadying them both with strong hands on Root’s shoulders. She smells like charcoal, Root inhaling before Sameen holds her at arm’s length. She looks at Root, gaze intense and a little bit concerned. Root might be imagining that last part.

Sameen scowls as recognition dawns. “You should be more careful.”

“I was looking for you.” If she's being quite honest, Root doesn’t really want to play the irritation game with her new friend at the moment (though she really does want to press Sameen against a wall and taste the skin on her neck) so she cuts to the chase. “Harold mentioned something to me. Actually, we mentioned something together. About the egg.”

Dark brows knit together as Sameen looks up at her. “Harold?”

“The brains behind the John Reese operation,” Root supplies. “Your competition.”

She sees comprehension dawn on Sameen’s hard features, smoothing them out for a brief moment. “Right. What about the him?”

Root leans down, closer to Sameen’s ear and lowers her voice. “I know how it works,” she purrs, leaving Sameen in the dust and starting down the hallway. She’s several long strides before she hears Sameen follow her, arguments on the tip of her tongue. She can practically hear the shorter girl’s eye roll.

“Any chance you’re going to tell me?” Sameen catches up with her easily, matching her steps.

“Only once you’ve showed me dark magic.” Root looks at her as they’re walking, a spark in her eye as she remembers what Sameen did today. “What you did today was…”

“Was what,” Sameen deadpans, staring Root down, daring her to finish the sentence.

_Sexy._ “Unbelievable,” Root tells her.

Sameen rolls her eyes for the second time in as many minutes. “We can’t do much today.”

Root stops, looking at her oddly. “Why not?” She hopes that Sameen can't tell how much her hopes just plummeted.

Sameen looks anywhere but Root’s face. “I’m sore, I guess.”

“Aw,” Root croons, stepping closer to her. “Are you a little hurt after fighting a dragon?”

“No,” Sameen argues. “But you’re going to be if you keep talking to me like I’m five.” She glares at Root and Root grins back playfully, but she ultimately decides not to poke the beast. At least, not when she’s tired and probably hungry.

Root leads the way to the Room of Requirement and opens the door for her, closing it tight after Sameen’s brushed past her. They sit against the wall in almost darkness. As much as Root would like to be learning more, she’s enjoying the warmth of Sameen sitting next to her.

“Really,” Root says after a long while. “What you did today --”

“Stop.”

Root turns to look at Sameen. “It was amazing, fantastic. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

Sameen stares forward before dropping her forehead in her hands, rubbing viciously at her temples. “Tell me about this egg.”

So Root does, repeating everything her and Harold had talked about. Sameen is a compliant listener, nodding occasionally and Root feels a tug, a tingle on her lips reminiscent of what they did in this room earlier. When she finishes, Sameen is silent for a long moment.

Finally, she sighs. “So do I just throw it into the lake?”

Root leans into her, bumping their shoulders. “No,” she argues, smiling. “The Prefects’ bathroom has a tub. I can get you in there.”

“Okay. Cool.” Sameen turns to her, her face way too close for comfort. “Thanks.”

Root can’t help looking at Sameen’s lips, slightly parted and entirely kissable. In the next moment she’s leaning in and pressing against surprisingly soft lisp, hand curling around the back of Sameen’s neck. Sameen is unresponsive, stiff against her, and Root pulls back, exhaling sharply with the taste of Sameen lingering. “Sorry, I…”

Sameen starts to shake her head. Then she’s kissing Root with a ferocity, harder when Root’s hand weaves into Sameen’s soot-dusted hair. Root’s nails scrape on Sameen’s scalp and Sameen’s hand burns on her knee. Sameen pulls away to take a breath, resting her forehead on Root’s. “We should stop,” she breathes.

“Mhm,” Root affirms before surging in for another kiss, lips prying open Sameen’s to taste her, relishing in the way Sameen kisses like she punches, hard.

It’s Root who pulls away this time, far enough to look Sameen in the eye. “We need to make curfew.”

Sameen’s brows scrunch together. “You have a curfew?”

“You don’t?” Sameen doesn’t respond, eyes only drifting to her lips and Root groans. “Why can’t we stay here forever?”

As if she’s suddenly realizing the compromising position they’re in, Sameen extracts herself from Root. “Because,” Sameen points out, “I have a tournament to win.”

At the reminder, Root remembers the dragon and the fact that Sameen literally _slayed_ it. She crawls forward, giving the other girl time to object, before she’s in Sameen’s lap. Sameen’s hands fit around her hips like puzzle pieces, and Root presses her lips against Sameen’s pulse. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I missed curfew…”

Sameen had gone still beneath her and she’s not moving, only the lingering touch on Root’s hip is reminding her that they’re here, they’re doing this. Root’s tongue blooms bruises on Sameen’s neck and the muscles underneath her lips clench. “Stop, Root.”

Root leans back. “Fine,” she sighs, not missing the way Sameen’s eyes zero in on her swollen lips.

They manage to make it out of the room without kissing again, but once they’re out in the hallway Root pins Sameen against a wall with a shove, sliding her tongue into Sameen’s mouth and relishing the taste of fire. Sameen sighs, irritated. Her hands don’t wander and Root wants them to, desperately, instead of just press against the cold, hard brick.

“See you tomorrow?” Root asks hopefully, mouth too close to Sameen’s for comfort. “To show you the tub.”

“Yeah,” Sameen replies. She slips out from between Root and the wall and leaves Root feeling cold, regret deep in her chest. Root watches her go, and she finds herself wondering if she’ll get to kiss Sameen again.

  
  
  
  



	5. salt for the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scoffing, Sameen rolls her eyes. “In your dreams.”
> 
> Root leans in close to her and murmurs in her ear, “You know me _so_ well.”

Root’s head rests on her open palm, staring blankly as her professor drones on and on. She hasn’t been listening for most of the lesson, mostly reminiscing about the previous night, swearing she can feel the press of Sameen’s lips on hers again when her eyes drift closed. She jolts after a moment of sinking too far into the memory, blinking at her surroundings.

“Now,” the professor’s saying, looking a bit more pleased as he closes the book at the front of the classroom. “We’re done with the lesson for today. But for the upcoming Yule Ball, you’ll be partnering up to practice dancing.”

The class groans as one, and Root looks around, shifting in her chair, taking in the prospects. There aren’t very many enticing choices.

Her professor waggles his eyebrows. “It’ll be great fun,” he says. “I’ve been instructed that kids from different houses have to pair up, but that’s the only matchmaking I’ll be doing. We’ll reconvene in a few minutes when everyone has a partner.” He leaves them to their own devices and goes around his desk, shuffling through a few papers. Root sighs, sinking further into her chair.

Slytherin and Gryffindor share this class, and Root's gaze moves from face to face. There’s no one she’d like to work with, so she’s at a loss. Carter beelines for some girl Root doesn’t know the name of, and John Reese is alone, just like Root. There’s no way she’s going to go over there, ask him to dance. Considering he’s Hogwarts’ champion, she’s surprised he _doesn’t_ have a partner.

Watching him shuffle, awkward at the edges of the room, she takes her earlier sentiment back.

She sits at her desk and scribbles with her quill, wasting an enormous amount of ink as she makes a attempt to avoid any unwarranted gazes. Some part of her knows that John is the only one left without a partner, that she hadn't moved fast enough to get one to begin with (not like anyone was falling over their feet to pair up with _her_ ), but she’s steadfastly denying it, choosing instead to create a crude rendition of her professor in her notes. It looks a bit like him. Maybe a little abstract. She might show it to Sameen later.

The professor regroups, clapping his hands. “Everyone have a partner?”

She looks up, instantly realizing her mistake when, by some horrible twist of fate, John’s gaze connects with hers, and she rolls her eyes, relenting, beckoning him over with a tilt of her head.

He’s at her side a moment later and the professor begins to demonstrate certain one-two steps of different types of dances. John stands next to Root stiffly and she crosses her arms, looking up at anything but him. She'd never bothered to get to know him, never saw the need to after her fall out with Harold, and she's not going to start now. Not even if they're going to be waltzing in a few moments. She's not going to be awarding anyone that satisfaction.

John swallows so thickly the movement looks painful. “Heard you’ve been hanging around Sameen Shaw.”

“Heard you turned a rock into a cow. Fascinating.”

“Why,” he asks, turning toward her. His voice holds a little bit of contempt, with a pinch of betrayal thrown in. To him, it's probably inconceivable that a Slytherin's loyalty has been blurred. His expression is a little like she’s been with the enemy, which she has, just a bit, but it doesn’t tug at her heart strings like she knows he’s hoping it will. He says, “You’re probably telling her everything about this school. Just because you hate me.”

_That_ wasn't the direction she expected this to go. Root scoffs. “I don’t hate you.”

“Harold, then. It’s all the same when it’s school against school.” This is more like it. His eyes burn into the side of her head, and she wonders how much Harold’s told him. He doesn’t know all of it, doesn’t know that not only has she been talking to Sameen, but she’s been talking to Harold, too. She doesn’t hate him. Not anymore.

Well, it's complicated.

She's not going to tell _him_ the story, if Harold hasn't, so she grinds her teeth together a moment before speaking. "I don't hate you," she repeats. "Sameen's my..." What? What is she, really? "Friend," she finishes, albeit lamely. "And I'm not going to spend anymore time defending myself to you because honestly?" She looks at him; he’s one of the few at this school taller than her. "I don't care what you think of me."

John looks at her in a way that makes her skin prickle, the blood underneath it boiling, before he nods. "You're right. Sorry."

Root's brows scrunch together.

John says, "That was wrong of me." He chews on his lip for a second, and Root can tell that it takes a slight toll on him to admit that. He puts a hand between them, offering it to her. "You used to be Harold's friend, so that makes you an old friend of mine."

She's not sure how the logic on something like that works, but she shakes his hand anyway. "Right."

John doesn't release her hand, instead smiling at her. "A dance?"

Root glances around them and realizes that all the other partnered pairings have gotten into stance and she groans under her breath, reluctantly allowing John to curl his fingers around her waist. She rests her open palm on his chest and thinks about her training with Sameen.

She could bend the fingers of his right hand back and have him turned around in a second, the arm pinned behind him. She'd been working on some strength training with Sameen, too, and she might be able to break his shoulder if she wanted to. She thinks about the possibilities for a long moment, her hand loose in John's, only coming out of it when she feels a slight squeeze of her left hand.

"Ready?" John's voice is soft, lacking the threatening quality it'd had moments ago.

She nods and decides that thinking about hurting her classmates isn't the best idea.

The dance isn’t hard, and Root can tell that her professor is losing interest in anyone that isn’t John, as he sends glances toward the two of them when he thinks they aren’t paying attention. He’s the only one who really has to learn it, representing the school and all, but he’s quick on his feet and doesn’t have to be shown twice, easily leading Root around the small space cleared away for the students with just a slight pressure on her hip. She feels a bit like she’s floating.

She finds herself thinking about how different it would be dancing like this with someone much, much shorter. Sameen is so different than John, she finds herself noticing. Would she lead?  John smiles at her when Root trips up and just corrects her step with his own. She only glances down at her feet for a moment, getting dizzy if she looks for too long.

He leans in as they move in circles, the other students trying and failing to replicate John’s example. “Don’t look at your feet too much,” John says. “It’ll distract you.”

She shakes her head and resists the urge, both to look at her feet and to listen to him. She asks, “How do you know so much about this sort of thing?”

He smiles wider, and she’s noticing his hand is a bit too warm in hers. He leans close, says, “I have sisters.”

She leaves it at that, and soon they’re done, parting ways. Root’s gathers her things, not sparing John another glance. She almost doesn’t notice when he starts to make his way over to her and pause at her desk.

“You should come to Hogsmeade with us sometime.” He shrugs, like he’s indifferent whether she comes or not. She thinks about who ‘us’ includes and doesn’t like the odds stacked against her. And, well, Harold’s been nice enough to her as of late.

She gives him a small half-smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” he says, Carter coming up behind him and giving Root a wide smile as she puts a hand on John’s shoulder. Root watches the two of them walk out together.

Root sighs, shoving her things into her bag, and she tries to remember what it was like to have a friend.

 

.

 

“You’re late.”

Sameen catches the eye roll Root gives her as she rounds the corner, and she tightens her arms, shifting her position against the wall. The taller girl hurries toward her. The expression on Root’s face is unlike any Sameen’s seen before, bereft of all mirth. Sameen almost asks why, but decides that she doesn’t care, letting her mouth close with a click of her teeth.

Root leans beside her on the wall, brushing hair out of her face. Her head falls against the brick and her eyes flutter shut. “We had to practice dancing for the ball,” she says after a long moment of what seems like rest. She turns to Sameen, opening her eyes. “My dance partner was John Reese.”

Sameen presses her lips together. “Suck it up.”

“Easy for you to say,” Root groans. She grins wickedly, then, eyes lighting up for a brief moment. “I kept thinking of ways that I could hurt him. You’d probably be better at that than me, though.”

“We’re not going there,” Sameen warns. “And you shouldn’t do that. Where’s this bathroom, anyway?”

Root looks at her for a long moment, and Sameen tries to ignore the way Root’s eyes obviously drift down to her lips. Root’s not even hiding it anymore, and it’s grading on Sameen’s nerves, mostly because the more obvious Root is, the less Sameen is able to contain herself. It’s a never ending cycle that Sameen would love to put to a complete stop.

“You’re no fun,” Root pouts, seemingly forgetting about Sameen’s lips altogether. She pushes off from the wall and starts down the hallway, Sameen rushing after her. “Let’s go.”

“Where _are_ we going?”

Root turns around and walks backward, smiling as she tucks hair behind her ear. “Fifth floor. Behind the… I’m pretty sure it’s the fourth door and to the left of a statue. We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

Root leads the way and Sameen follows, the former silent. Sameen’s gotten better at navigating the hallways, but it’s taken longer than she’d like. Something about the almost comfortable air between the two of them tugs at her, and she can’t put her finger on it; she doesn’t know if she wants to. It’s only after they’ve been walking for a long while that Sameen finally opens her mouth, though she’s a bit restrained.

“I think,” she says, shattering the thick silence between them as they continue through an unfamiliar corridor, “I”m going to start showing you some spells soon.” She’s thought about the idea a lot, knowing that it’s not a question of whether Root’s ready or not, it’s whether _she_ is.

Root stops, half hidden in shadow, and when she turns to Sameen, there’s a grin on her face. “You’re sure?”

Sameen feels that gross, unwanted thing in her chest that springs up every time Root gets that look in her eye. She looks down at her own feet. “It’s whatever.” She swallows. “You’re ready. You’ve been ready. It’s me who’s been delaying it.”

“About time,” Root tells her, the usual smirk returning to her tone. She leans into Sameen and bumps their shoulders together. The mocking is easier to deal with, the fake feeling, and Sameen lifts her gaze to find the last expression absent, replaced by Root’s perpetual crooked smirk.

“Don’t get a big head,” Sameen warns, starting off down the hallway despite not knowing where to go.

Root catches up with her easily, longer legs and all that. “Don’t worry, Sameen. That won’t happen until I knock you flat on your ass.”

Scoffing, Sameen rolls her eyes. “In your dreams.”

Root leans in close to her and murmurs in her ear, “You know me _so_ well.”

 

.

  
  


The Prefects’ bathroom is large and, well, significantly better than any of the bathrooms Root’s seen inside of the castle. She chews on her lip as she lets her and Sameen into it, taking in the grandeur of the tile and the large, empty tub. While Sameen takes a look, Root starts up the faucets and puts her fingers under the stream of water to gauge the temperature.

“I like it hot,” Sameen says after a few moments. Root almost flinches when she hears the other girl’s voice, thinking she’d been in the other part of the large bathroom. She looks up at Sameen, not knowing what she’s referring to. “The water,” Sameen prompts.

“Oh.” Root moves along the edge of the small pool to turn all the faucets even more, watching as steam comes off of the torrential streams in waves. She puts her hand in the water, swirling it around a bit, and marvels at the heat.

“You’re not staying around, are you?” Sameen’s standing against a wall with her arms crossed, and Root wonders how long the other girl has been looking at her. “I’m not about to take a bath with you here.”

“Modest, are you?” Root croons, wiping her hand on her robes. She stands up and feels heat on the back of her neck, whether from thoughts of Sameen in the bath or the thick fog of steam in the room, she’s not sure. “I’ll be out of your hair.” Root moves to go out the way the two of them came in before she turns around and glances back at Sameen, who hasn’t moved. “You’re not actually taking a bath, are you?”

“What are you still doing here?” Sameen asks her, pushing off from the wall. She pick up the egg and edges it toward the tub before straightening up. “I’m just getting the information from this damn thing.”

“Right,” Root confirms, though she doesn’t move to leave. “Should I wait outside? Or --”

“Root,” Sameen growls, looking up at her again. If it’d been anyone else, Root might have been a little annoyed, but the only thing that comes from the mild disdain and fire in Sameen’s eyes is a churning in her gut. Sameen’s features soften just a bit as she sighs. “I’ve got something in a bit. Hersh has a meeting. I’ll see if I can catch up with you after, okay?”

Root says, “So I’ll leave,” and nods to herself. She hovers for just a second later, and then she’s going around the corner, pushing the door open. She lets the door fall shut without going through it and listens for any sign of Sameen entering the water. Pressing her back against the wall, Root’s curiosity gets the best of her when she hears a splash

She peeks around the wall and lets out a small exhale as her eyes trail up and down Sameen’s bare back. She only lets herself a small glance, reminding herself that she’s here to know what the egg means and nothing else. By the time she looks again, Sameen’s already lowered herself into the water with a deep sigh.

It’s looks hot, comfortable. Root watches from the shadows as Sameen turns and looks at the egg, and she wonders when anything is going to happen.

 

.

 

Sameen stares at the golden egg. It’s nothing special, fake gold, to be sure, but she thinks this whole idea is idiotic. She can just picture high and mighty John Reese sitting in the exact same place she is and dunking his head under the water, blindly listening to his friend, that Harold guy. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t be able to do this, but it just feels stupid. It’s an egg.

“I must be out of my mind,” she mutters. She reaches forward to grab it, but stills when she hears a voice.

Not a voice, a _giggle_. She whirls in the tub and bubbles go flying as wet hair plasters itself to her face.

“Root, if you’re still in here,” she threatens, but she stops when a shimmering figure rises out of the water and stands. Well, doesn’t stand, really, just kind of floats. Exists.

“Not _her_ ,” it pouts, and Sameen can feel her heart in her chest. Sure, a dragon is all fine, but she didn’t sign up for ghosts. “And you’ve got to put it under the water,” the ghost tells her, smiling again. “The other one didn’t do that and almost lost his ear drums. I tried to help him, and he repaid me by running away.”

“I’m definitely out of my mind,” Sameen says to herself. She wishes someone else were here to tell her that she’s seeing things.

“You’re _not_. At least, as far as I know,” the girl tells her. Dark hair cropped into bangs and glasses balancing on her nose, the girl advances toward Sameen in the tub, and she pushes herself as far against the wall as she can. “You’re not going to run away from me are you?”

“Who are you,” Sameen tries, feeling stupid for talking to a ghost.

“Myrtle,” the girl sputters, as if just coming up for air from beneath the water. “That’s what the other boy did.”

“John,” Sameen echoes. “Did it work?”

The girl sidles up to her, and Sameen stiffens, feeling the brush of cold air on her shoulders as Myrtle’s ghost body skims her own. Myrtle says, “I’d try it, wouldn’t I?”

“Whatever,” Sameen mutters, turning to grab the egg.

When she turns forward again, Myrtle’s gone, only the echo of her voice remaining and sounding far away. “Well, go on.”

Sameen dunks the egg underneath the water. There’s a long moment of pause, a slight hesitation flowing through her, as she at last looks at the egg resting just beneath the surface. She skims her fingers over the top, over the switch, and she twists it open. Through the water, the inside of the egg shimmers something blurred, and she only sees light.

She glances over at the space where Myrtle was, finding slight relief in the fact that the ghost seems to have lost interest and has moved on. Taking a deep breath, Sameen plunges her head under the water and is engulfed not with the absence of sound, but a song.

_Come seek us where our voices sound. We cannot sing above the ground. And how long with you have to look to recover what we took._

Sameen sputters, catching her breath above the water and closing the egg as she puts it on the side of the pool again. Myrtle’s voice mocks her, fake sputtering, and Sameen rolls her eyes.

There’s a sudden crash from the other side of the bathroom, Myrtle’s voice as she says, “Oh!”, and Sameen turns her head toward the sound.

“Who’s there?” she calls, swearing that she hears the sound of wet footsteps retreating. If she wasn’t in such a compromising position, she’d go after whoever it was, but she’s feeling forgiving. Instead, she sighs and leans against the edge of the tub, the hard surface pressing into the back of her neck, grounding her.

She feels further from the next task now than she did before she’d started worrying about the stupid egg. Nothing comes to mind when she thinks about water -- what could they possibly do with that? Irritated, Sameen splashes the water and watches the bubbles disperse.

“Fuck,” she breathes, deciding to just enjoy the warm water for a bit.

Her eyes have only been closed a brief moment before a voice filters its way into her consciousness. “The Black Lake,” it says, and whoever it is, they’re definitely not Myrtle. Over the drone of the faucets, the voice sounds familiar.

Sameen opens an eye and looks around, seeing no one. She stays silent.

“That’s the next task,” they say, and _fuck_.

“Root,” Sameen growls. “If you’re in here, you’re dead. Simple as that.”

“I’m… not, then?” Root replies, stepping out from behind a wall. She crosses her arms in front of her chest and, with just a touch of irony, Sameen does the same, stuffing her hands into her armpits. “Also,” Root adds, a gentle smirk settling on her face, “That --”

“Don’t even,” Sameen warns,eyes darting back and forth as she tries to search for a way out of this situation. Really, any way out of this tub and into her clothes without Root getting a free show.

“If we’re being honest,” Root starts, walking toward the edge. To her credit, her eyes don’t stray from Sameen’s face, for which Sameen is a bit grateful, “you’re the one in the compromising position.”

“ _You’re the one_ who’s watching me, without my permission, and if you cherish those lessons that I’ve been giving you, you’d leave. Now.”

Root pouts, dropping a foot to drag through the water. “I’ll leave,” Root says. “But first, I’m pretty sure I know what the next task is. If you’re interested.”

“I’m getting dressed,” Sameen tells her, ignoring her words, “and you’re going to go lock yourself in a stall until I’m ready.”

Root winks at her but walks toward the stalls anyway, her feet splashing in the puddles on the ground. As soon as Sameen hears the click of the lock, she’s pushing herself out of the water and grabbing a towel, a slight hiss falling from her lips as the cold air hits her wet skin. She rubs at her skin viciously, keeping her eyes locked on the direction Root had gone.

She pulls her clothes on, not wasting a minute of time, and starts toweling her hair. She doesn’t bother telling Root to come back out. Doesn’t care, if she’s being honest.

“Can I come out now?” Root’s voice is clear now that the faucets are off.

“Whatever,” Sameen grumbles, pulling her hair up into her trademark hair tie.

“I was saying,” Root continues, either oblivious or indifferent to Sameen’s irritation, Sameen can’t tell, “that the next task is in the Black Lake.”

“Lake, huh?”

“That big body of water that you sailed in on to get here,” Root deadpans, letting out a deep sigh.

“Right.”

“Anyway -- I don’t know what it’ll be exactly,” Root says, slipping from the bathroom stall, “but there are legends that merpeople live in that lake. Obviously, I’ve never gone into it, but those rumors have a good chance of being true. You might want to read up on it a bit, John has a big advantage because most of us know about that lake.”

“Got it,” Sameen affirms, finally grabbing the egg of the floor. She goes toward the door and leaves Root standing in the middle of the floor. As she’s leaving, she hears a muttered, “What, no thank you?” and she smiles to herself.

She heads to the meeting, dropping off the egg in her room. As she walks into the small classroom, she hears Hersh say, “Alright. Pair up. Once Shaw gets here, we’ll start learning how to do the opening dance.”

She stops dead in her tracks and groans. When she walks in, Grice materializes at her side, grinning like a madman, and Sameen has never wanted to die more. She keeps hearing in her head what Root’s going to say about this, probably something about how Sameen deserved the punishment after being such a prick to Root earlier. As Grice steps on her foot for the fourth time, Sameen makes a decision.

Root can’t make fun of her if Root doesn’t know.

  
  
  
  
  



	6. granting us a wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sameen doesn’t say anything as she’s forced away, held back by unrecognizable arms. Root watches as Martine gingerly touches her bleeding lip and bruised cheek, smiling with blood in her teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, I think, has been one of my favorite chapters thus far. Thanks for reading!

Since the day that Sameen kissed her, Root hasn’t stopped thinking about it.

Sameen’s lips, the way they felt hard and soft all at once. Or the way Sameen had literally been on top of her, sweating, and Root was all but powerless underneath. She keeps wanting to kiss Sameen again, but ever since the day in the bath, Sameen’s been ignoring her. She hasn’t gotten a chance since.

She hasn’t even been able to set up a meeting to train, or even talk, mostly because whenever Sameen sees her in the hallway, she turns around and heads in the other direction, too fast for Root to follow. It’s obvious that she’s conflicted about something, but Root wants it to be anything other than the fact that they’d kissed because she wants to do it again and again.

Root sighs, leaning over the book on the table. She’s in the library, one of the only ones still there, bent over a book that she’s been searching through for hours. To help Sameen, of all people. Root’s not even sure Sameen would let her share any information even if Root _did_ find something.

She’s looking for a charm to help Sameen breathe underwater, not that Sameen _cares_.

Briefly, as she skims over a paragraph, she considers killing Sameen and bringing her back, undead. That way, she wouldn’t have to breathe. Air, it says in this book, isn’t necessary for the undead.

Root’s forehead hits the table with a soft thump, and she’s tired, hungry, and bored. She’s restless, too, her leg tapping to some unknown rhythm. She’d rather be practicing her magic with Sameen or doing other, less PG things with Sameen, but she’s out of luck.

“Whatever,” Root grumbles, hearing the echo of Sameen’s voice in her ear because that muttered word seems to be a favorite of the other girl’s, before closing the book. She gets up, gathering the small stack of books that she’s been accumulating in the hours she’s been in the library, and goes back to an aisle, searching the bookshelves to them back where she found them.

She slides a book into the bookshelf and claps her hands together, getting rid of the dust. She goes toward the door before there’s a hand over her mouth and nose and another pulling around her waist.

“Shh,” someone says and then Root’s falling, sleep drifts over her bones, into darkness.

 

.

 

The one time Sameen genuinely wants to find Root, the taller girl is nowhere to be seen.

She ignores the uneasy feeling in her chest and instead finds Grice and Brooks, the two of them huddled together in the middle of a long table in a study room. She makes her way toward them, sitting opposite Grice. The boy widens his eyes and shares a look with Brooks, obviously picking up on her irritated mood.

"I know what the next task is," Sameen starts, looking at them with a level gaze.

"That's great!" Grice grins, closing the book he'd been reading. "What is it?"

Sending a glance toward Brooks, Sameen explains. "I'm not really sure what the competition part of it will be, but it has something to do with the lake. I'll probably need something to breathe or stay dry." She looks around the room and crosses her arms on the table, remembering what the egg had sung. "Oh, and there will probably be merpeople involved."

"That's some deep shit," Grice remarks, not making any moves. Sameen's kind of grateful they can be considered friends, mostly because they haven't asked her how she's gotten this information. Truthfully, if she could find Root, she'd be asking the Hogwarts student instead of these two, but as of now and in Root's strange absence, they're all she has.

"I've got it," Brooks says suddenly, her finger on a line in one of her books. "A bubble charm."

Sameen had learned about those years ago, but she'd forgotten. She says, "I think that'll work." She nods toward Brooks in an unspoken _thank you_ before taking the book herself and reading over the instructions. "Yeah, this looks pretty easy." She looks up at the two of them and nods her head, feeling the twinge of excitement burn in her chest. "Let's hope I don't have to use it."

"Fingers crossed," Grice adds, and a small bit of relief fills Sameen's chest as she's reminded, once again, that they're on her side.

 

.

 

There are crowds at the docks and around the lake itself, people flooding around much like the tides. Sameen’s in a swimsuit, robe wrapped around her small figure, and she is itching beneath the skin.

Standing on the dock and looking into the murky depths underneath her feet, Sameen feels anxious about the challenge. She hasn’t seen Root and can’t see her in the crowd; the absence of the other girl is prickling at her uncomfortably. She misses Root, as much as she’d like to admit it. Normally Root is annoying and overbearing, but now that she’s nowhere to be found, Sameen misses the company.

A body comes up beside her and Sameen looks over to see John, levelling a neutral gaze toward her. She takes him in, the tight swim trunks and the strong body. She hopes that he’s looking at her, too, mostly because the bodysuit sticking to her skin isn’t so much for looks but for convenience.

“Shaw,” he greets, voice low and gravelly. It’s beginning to grow on her, the way that John is aloof and yet entirely readable. It’s an odd balance, but she can tell that he’s a little nervous, perhaps a bit similar to her, and she’s grateful. Martine, on the other side of the dock in a sleek one piece, looks like she’s reading to devour both of them, sending them both a crisp smile. It gets under Sameen’s skin.

“John,” she replies, looking up at him. His height doesn’t bother her; she’s gotten used to the fact that everyone she’s going to meet, inevitably, is going to be taller than her. “Nice day.”

John looks up at the sky, which is, decidedly, not very nice. A deep gray of cloud cover hangs over them threateningly. He smiles, the expression out of place on his face. “Perfect for a swim,” he remarks, lifting up his arms to stretch them back.

He stretches his arms above his head and Sameen does the same, rolling her shoulders in circles to generate some heat. “Where’s your entourage?” Sameen asks, scanning the immediate crowd for familiar faces. She sees Joss, chatting amiably with some friends, but she doesn’t spot Harold.

“Not sure,” he murmurs, scanning over the area she’d just looked at. “What about yours?”

She looks at him sharply, trying to discern who exactly he’s talking about. “Who, uh, do you mean?”

“Y’know,” he says, “Grice, is it? And the blonde.”

She feels a tug of relief flow through her. She doesn’t know why the information is so freeing, but she wants to keep Root to herself. She doesn’t know where they stand and whether other people are curious about them, but she doesn’t care. Only enough to make sure they aren’t subject to rumors. (With her fists).

John looks at her oddly, as if he’s trying to read her as well. She coughs. “Dunno,” she says, shrugging. “Could be anywhere.”

He looks at her for a moment longer before speaking. The words rest heavy on his tongue like it’s something he doesn’t want to ask. He gains the courage, looking at her squarely. “You don’t have many friends, do you?”

She scoffs like it’s a reflex, ignoring the raised eyebrow she gets in response. “I have friends,” she defends. Root counts, doesn’t she? And Grice and Brooks are her classmates, but she likes them well enough. She’s pretty sure they’d consider her a friend even if she… doesn’t.

“Okay,” he amends, pressing his lips together.

“I do,” she insists. “There’s one back at school. Name’s Cole.”

John stares straight ahead, watching the Headmasters get their preparations started for the event. “Why isn’t he here?”

Sameen curses herself and the use of present tense. It only makes the slight ache in her chest thicker. “He, uh, wasn’t strong enough.” She’s half right, but it’s kind of hard to attend a big event like this when you’re dead.

John looks like he’s going to say something, but he’s cut off when they start announcing the rules for the event. Sameen listens as she and John make their way to the edge of the dock, grimacing slightly when the charm on the wand makes the announcer’s loud voice squeak.

They explain it -- cut and dry. Sameen’s already ready with her bubble charm, wand in her hand. They’re going to release them all at the same time for the timed event and, apparently, once you get into the water you’re supposed to know what you’re looking for. Sameen glances around the lake and the horizon; it’s a big lake, she’s not exactly sure how she’s supposed to find a specific something within it.

It all feels very cryptic, but Sameen is buzzing. John stands oddly still next to her as she jumps in place, forcing blood to flow to her outer extremities. Martine runs her fingers over her wand as she waits and Sameen avoids looking at her.

Finally, a whistle is blown and Sameen dives into the water, feeling the thick assault of cold on her skin as soon as she breaks the surface.

The water is like another world, her magic slow underneath it. When she does the bubble charm, it takes a long moment for her wand to conjure, being compromised as such. She takes a huge breath and looks around her, noticing the absence of the others.

She starts swimming, strokes long and calculated. Through the brush and forests of seaweed, she catches glimpses of movement that chill her to the bone. The water is almost green, but the tendrils latch onto her as she attempts to push them away, pulling at her like a lost lover. Sameen continues forward, looking for any sign that might lead her to what she’s supposed to find.

She swims for a long while, the only sound her own breathing. Her fingers pull through the thick water like syrup, and she finds herself just looking. She looks at the rocks at the bottom of the lake, the long shadows cast from being so deep underwater, the --

Three bodies being held underwater by rope latched onto rocks? Sameen hangs in the shadows, far enough away that she can’t accurately make out the faces. She waits, the inkling that the situation might be a trap deep in her stomach.

But then she notices a wave of hair around one head, curls thick even underneath the water and the realization comes crashing down on her. She doesn’t think that the officials would do this -- force students to participate, but the longer she waits, the more panicked she begins to feel, and the more she’s starting to think that these people may be who she’s supposed to be looking for. It’s Root, she knows now, who’s been under here the whole time Sameen was looking for her above the water.

Root and a boy that Sameen is realizing is Harold. There’s another boy, too, someone Sameen doesn’t recognize, but he’s wearing the Beauxbaton’s uniform. One for each champion, but Sameen has no clue why Root would be chosen for her.

She feels the tug in her chest that wants her to go save Root, and she ignores it, forcing herself to take in the situation thoroughly.

Around the feet of the three, she can see movement. A little adjusting of her vision, blurred with the murk of lakewater, and she can tell that they are definitely merpeople, bearing tridents and sticky fingers. She knew it couldn’t be that easy, just for them to go up and save each person. But Sameen knows how to fight and she’s just fine against some people who live under the water.

She pushes off of the rock she’d been hiding behind, straight toward Root’s ankles where she starts tugging at the restraints tied tightly around her feet. She’s almost halfway done when she feels crippling pain like static bolt through her body, paralyzing her movement. She feels her wand slip from her fingers.

She regains her composure after what seems like hours, turning around to catch Martine swimming toward her. The blonde doesn’t even give the boy she’s supposed to save a second glance, only having eyes for Sameen. Sameen scrambles for the wand still floating through the water, and she aims it toward Martine, full purpose to disarm her.

Martine dodges and Sameen feels it like lightning this time, racing through her entire body. Sameen grits her teeth, forces her arm up, but doesn’t get a spell off quick enough. Light twists though the water and hits Martine square in the shoulder; Sameen watches as her face contorts in pain moments before she rapidly turns around and aims what Sameen’s sure to be a killing blow toward John.

Sameen doesn’t know if she’s right, but she feels a sinking feeling course through her as John’s body goes rigid and his eyes drift close.

Martine’s away from them both in an instant, aiming a spell at the restraints tied to the boy’s ankles before she grabs his arm and pulls him up toward the surface. Rage bubbles through Sameen, and her breathing comes in short gasps as she thinks of what to do.

A quick check of John’s pulse tells her that he’s still alive, but he shows no signs of regaining consciousness. She grabs him underneath the elbows and is grateful for the lack of gravity underwater, mostly because when she pushes him toward the surface he slowly floats up toward the light.

Sameen resumes working on Root’s restraints, wondering what the time limit on this task is. She starts on Harold’s short after, letting Root drift in unconsciousness next to John. The merpeople watch her coldly, but seem to keep their distance. She harbors the ropes used to tie them down and instead ties the three of them together, linking their arms before grabbing John’s shoulder and starting the long journey to the surface.

All three of them are heavy, but nothing gets in Sameen’s way.

 

.

 

As Root breaks the surface of the lake, she wakes up.

She takes in a gasping breath and feels like her chest is going to explode, but Sameen is there and so is John and Harold, only John isn’t waking up, and Root has no idea about what is going on. She feels a tug on her arm and realizes she’s tied, somehow, to John and Harold both, but she lets herself be towed to the dock because she’s not strong enough to fight against it.

Sameen is shaking; from rage or the cold, Root isn’t sure, and she pushes herself out of the dock and looks at Root, assessing the damage, before she says, “Help me get John out of the water.”

The bystanders are too shocked to do anything, and Sameen growls at them, rage shimmering beneath her skin.

“He’s not conscious!” she snaps as she pulls at his arms, only, as much as she’d like to be, she isn’t strong enough to pull someone bigger than her out of the water. Root helps, barely, but only when other students start to get the memo do they really get John out of the water.

“Oh my,” Harold murmurs beside her, teeth clattering.

“The ladder’s over here,” Root tells him, using her link to his arm to lead him. They untie themselves before they get out of the water, Root ignoring the bite of the wind as she walks over to Sameen.

Someone puts a towel over her shoulders and Root hugs it against herself, shivering. Sameen kneels down next to John and the adults spur into action, everyone frantically trying to resuscitate John.

“What on earth happened to him?” someone asks. Root’s not sure who, partly because the voice belongs to someone she doesn’t recognize and partly due to the fact that she only has eyes for Sameen, who is pumping at John’s chest like she’s personally responsible.

Through thrusts against John’s chest, her hands pressing against the middle of his sternum, Sameen bites out, “It was _Martine_.”

Root looks up and finds the girl in question standing a length away, arms crossed in front of her chest, next to a boy who looks like a drowned rat. Her usual smile is absent, replaced by a thin press of pink lips, no longer that trademark red. Root bristles, although she’s not exactly sure why.

Hands run up and down her arms, and she’s grateful for the friction.

John sputters, coughing up water and fighting It’s Sameen, in the end, who manages to subdue his flight or fight instinct, grabbing onto his wrists and forcing him to remain calm.

“You’re okay,” she repeats, voice low and critical. John nods with blue lips before his eyes zero in on Harold and Root, who are standing side by side.

“Martine,” he growls, before pushing himself up again.

“ _Stop_ ,” Sameen tells him, pushing him down again. Ignoring his protests, she shakes her head firmly. “I’ve got this,” she says, quiet enough that everyone around them doesn’t hear, but Root does.

Sameen passes John off to someone else who allows him to sit up, giving him a towel.

Sameen straightens up and turns around, searching Root for any signs of outward damage. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly, the rage in her eyes lessening for a brief moment as she takes Root in. They’re standing almost ten feet away from each other, but Root feels like they’re the only two people in the world, the way Sameen is looking at her.

Root nods, sure that her own lips are slowly regaining color.

Sameen nods, too, almost to herself, before she turns around and stalks toward Martine, who only smiles. Sameen punches her first, fist flying through the air and hitting her smack in the jaw, and Martine only laughs, the sound eerie in the silence of the people watching. It takes a long moment before the officials spring into action, catching Sameen’s arm in mid air as she’s throwing her third punch, aimed again for Martine’s face.

Sameen doesn’t say anything as she’s forced away, held back by unrecognizable arms. Root watches as Martine gingerly touches her bleeding lip and bruised cheek, smiling with blood in her teeth.

 

.

 

Sameen was the only one to win the second task, given extra awards. Martine’s win was taken away on the technicality, and John didn’t finish. She’s not too happy about it, though, and she’s getting more worried about what Martine is willing to do to her and John just to be claimed the winner. The thoughts she’s jumping to are startling in their honesty, but she’s finding herself wondering if Martine could kill her.

Now, Sameen stands outside of the Slytherin Dungeon and glares at the painting guarding the door, who is adamantly refusing to admit to her that the Slytherin common room is just behind the door.

“Obviously, you’re not from here,” the wizard on the canvas drawls, arms crossed.

“I know the password,” she argues.

“Then _where_ are your school robes?” He smirks to himself like he’s got her cornered, the self-satisfied grin itching at her.

She sighs. “The password is pure blood,” she tells him, watching his face morph into surprise.

The door swings open, and as she crosses the threshold, she hears him arguing with her about whether or not she’s allowed to go in. Just before the door closes, she swears she hears him muttering something about changing the password to something less obvious. She allows herself a small smirk, a small victory in light of recent events.

Inside the common room, the walls are a deep green, Slytherin green, and the fire burns bright in the corner. There aren’t any other students in the area for which Sameen is grateful, because she knows that she could get into a considerable amount of trouble for being in here at all. But, it’s truly not her fault that Root decided to disappear the one place she thought Sameen wouldn’t be able to go after her post almost-drowning.

Sameen climbs the stairs to the girls’ dormitory and tentatively knocks on the door.

“Can’t you find somewhere else to sleep?” a voice grumbles from within, sounding terribly put upon for being bothered.

Smirking, Sameen leans close to the door. She says, “It’s me, Root.”

There’s some shuffling from inside and Sameen’s about to reach for the door handle when the entire thing opens, revealing Root in too large pajamas. “How’d you get in here?” she asks, looking up and down Sameen’s body, brows knitting together.

“What, like it’s hard?” Sameen smirks as she watches the expression on Root’s face morph from confusion to annoyance.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Root sighs, moving to shut the door.

Sameen forces her foot across the threshold, effectively stopping the door. She curls her fingers around the wood, dangerously close to Root’s own, and levels her gaze. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You didn’t seem to care when I was drenched and freezing,” Root mutters, avoiding Sameen’s gaze.

“John could’ve died,” Sameen points out. “Stop being an asshole.”

Root finally looks up at her, not a trace of the usual Root that Sameen’s used to. “What’s going on, Sameen? With us.”

Sameen steps back, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“You can’t just do that,” Root argues, pulling the door wide open. “You can’t kiss me and never mention it again, because --”

“That didn’t happen.”

“It _did_ ,” Root reminds her. She watches Sameen look at the ground, shuffle her feet, and Root crosses her arms. “I don’t understand what you’re so afraid of,” she admits, voice quiet enough Sameen can hear the crackling of the fire just a room away.

“I’m not scared,” Sameen mutters on instinct.

“Then look at me.”

Sameen does. She looks at Root’s face, Root’s concerned expression. She looks at Root’s hair, still slightly wet from earlier and drying in curls that Sameen remembers dragging her fingers through. She looks at Root’s lips, pursed and pressed into a tight line. She looks because she _isn’t_ scared and she needs Root to know that.

Somehow, it seems like Root understands, because she leans in, inches away from Sameen’s face, but it could be a mile for all that Sameen is concerned. The heat of Root’s lips is what draws her in and she tastes her, pushing her tongue past Root’s lips when Root parts them. A hand snakes around the back of her neck and her own find Root’s waist, pulling her in.

Root tastes like lakewater and taffy and Sameen decides in that moment that she should be kissing her more often.

  
  
  



	7. tell the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So many sensations at once; Sameen’s not used to all of the feeling involved with kissing, but she’s enjoying herself.

Waking up, Sameen feelings the weight of an arm wrapped around her middle, and stiffens, unfamiliar surroundings sinking into her.

She's not used to the morning after, more used to sneaking out in the dead of night, and she has no memory of going further than second base with Root last night. Looking at the girl lying beside her, eyes closed, Sameen finds herself wondering if they just feel asleep like this.

Holding her breath, Sameen watches as Root stirs, buried halfway in the sheets. “Hey,” she murmurs, voice muffled by her pillow. Her voice croaks with early morning disuse and she peeks open an eye at Sameen, hair tousled and tangled.

“Hey,” Sameen says back, staring at Root over the arc of the pillow.

“I didn’t realize you were still here.”

Shrugging, Sameen exhales. “I think I fell asleep,” she says, remembering collapsing onto Root’s bed with Root on top of her, fingers threading through hair, lips colliding. “I was exhausted last night.”

“I could tell,” Root says, a tired smirk spreading across her face. Even now, something laces into her voice that Sameen can’t place, but it makes her stomach curl all the same. Root tightens her arm around Sameen before drifting her hand upward, tapping Sameen’s nose.

Sameen swats her away. “Stop,” she groans, weakly hitting at Root’s hand, not expecting it to latch on. Root’s fingers weave into her own, and Root holds her hand, grinning as sunlight dapples her skin.

“So,” Root says, oblivious to Sameen’s irritation, “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“I’m not going to class,” Sameen tells her, watching their hands flop around in the sun. “Too tired. You can do whatever you want, I guess.”

Root shifts, letting Sameen’s hand drop onto her stomach. She props her elbows up underneath her, says, “We should sneak away, do something _together_.” She chews her bottom lip, and her hair falls into her face, tickling Sameen’s shoulder. She leans in, bumping her arm into Sameen’s. “I’ll skip if you’re going to.”

“Like I said,” Sameen breathes, holding in the smile that threatens to show, “do what you want.”

Root seems to accept that, grinning even wider now. “Oh,” she says. “We should do something in the field, you know? Now that the tasks have started, we haven’t gotten to practice much.”

Sameen sighs and stretches her arms above her head, preening a bit like a cat. “I don’t know,” she murmurs. “The next task isn’t for a while.”

Root’s gaze extends past Sameen, as if she’s just noticing the other bodies in the beds around them. The other students are fast asleep, tucked deep into blankets, and Root wonders if they had any odd thoughts about her and Sameen when they crawled into bed. The room had been empty when they had fallen into bed.

“Since you seem to like throwing me into action,” Root says, the gears in her brain slowly turning, “I think I have an idea.”

Sameen crooks an eyebrow, and Root leans over to kiss her. She takes the small hum of agreement that passes through her lips from Sameen’s as approval for what she’s about to suggest.

 

.

 

“You’re not ready for this,” Sameen says, staring ahead with a scowl on her face. She turns to Root, a doubtful eyebrow raised. “I haven’t even _shown_ you any spells.”

“Exactly,” says Root, beaming at her, before turning toward the tree. In the roots, she can see the entrance to the Shrieking Shack, a place she’s always wanted to go. Looking toward Sameen, she’s finally found her way to best the willow that guards it.

Sameen looks doubtful.

Root tells her, “No, so there’s a reward, kind of. Legend has it, there’s a secret passage to the Shrieking Shack at the base of the tree. We, or I, subdue the tree, we get to the shack.”

Sameen’s expression is laughable. “Shrieking Shack?”

“It’s a house in Hogsmeade,” Root explains, biting her lip. “Or, just outside of it. Anyway, it’s cool. Or, I’ve heard it’s cool. I’ve never been inside. That’s where you come in.”

Sameen stares up at the tree, at the whistling branches moving with the wind, not as sinister as she would’ve thought. Root, seeming to take the hint, scans the ground for a rock until she finally spots one, picking it up. She lobs it toward a branch, and, to Sameen’s surprise, the branch kicks back, hitting the rock like a baseball bat and sending it spiraling into the Forbidden Forest.

“It doesn’t let anyone get close,” Root tells her.

Sameen looks around the two of them, checking to make sure that there’s no one around. After a long moment, she sighs. “There is a spell.”

Root lights up. “Teach me,” she croons. “Show me how to do it.”

Taking out her wand, Sameen shakes her head. “Fine,” she sighs, like Root is possibly the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. She beckons for Root to do the same, and Root mirrors her, standing wand-at-the-ready. “So there’s a spell,” Sameen says, “called the Freezing Charm.”

“We’ve learned this,” Root objects.

“Then show me.”

Root rolls her eyes and points her wand toward the tree. They’re both far enough that if the tree attempts to touch either of them, it can’t, but it’s better safe than sorry. Concentrating, Root says, “ _Immobulus_.”

The tree doesn’t look any different, branches still rattling with the wind. Sameen shrugs, says, “Let’s see.”

Root watches, mouth agape, as Sameen approaches the tree with confident strides. She’s not two feet within its reach when a branch swings down and knocks her off her feet, hitting her hard in the stomach. She clutches at her abdomen, stumbling back toward Root.

“Right,” she wheezes, taking a moment, “that didn’t work.”

“I don’t know _why_ ,” Root mutters, staring at her wand with irritation. “I totally mastered this second year.”

“That’s probably it,” says Sameen, straightening. She stares at the tree before looking back at Root. At Root’s perplexed expression, she explains further, “What I mean is, you haven’t even thought about this spell since you were twelve. You have to stay in practice.”

Root nods, getting it.

“And,” says Sameen, “you didn’t do the wrist flick.”

Root turns back to the tree, lifting up her wand arm once again. She holds her wand with her index finger pressed against the wood, Sameen notices, but it seems to work. In terms of control, Root’s wrist work is impeccable as she repeats the incantation, twirling her joint at just the right moment. There’s a suspension in the air for just a moment before the atmosphere returns to normal, but the tree looks the same.

“Okay,” Sameen says, gazing up at the tree as if daring it to touch her. “You might’ve gotten it this time.” She walks toward the tree more cautious this time, but as she gets closer, there isn’t a movement besides her own.

“Yes!” Root's voice is loud, catching Sameen off guard. Sameen turns around to catch Root jumping into the air, her smile wide.

Sameen fights her own grin, turning back toward the entrance to the Shrieking Shack. “Come on before it wears off.” There’s a warmth in her chest as she hears Root scurrying after her just to catch up.

 

.

 

Sitting in the creaky Shrieking Shack, Sameen decides that kissing Root isn’t all that bad.

Root’s lips are soft and pliant, and at times, Root pushes back with a ferocity that Sameen never expects. It bites, just like Root’s teeth, just like the press of Root’s finely cropped nails at the corner of Sameen’s jaw. So many sensations at once; Sameen’s not used to all of the feeling involved with kissing, but she’s enjoying herself.

Humming into Root’s mouth, her tongue pushes past the seam of Root’s lips, playing with Root’s tongue. Root’s fingers flutter on the side of her neck, and she makes a small sound, so unexpected that Sameen pulls away, smirking.

“Can we not,” Root asks, tasting her own lips, “stop?”

Sameen flops against the wall, dust upset in the air, says “We should probably get out of here.” Looking around at the abandoned house, she can’t help but feel an itchy crawling underneath her skin, like she’s not supposed to be here. Not one to back down from a mere vacancy, she’s not going to be the one to get up first. No harm in suggesting, though.

“You’re no fun,” Root breathes, settling against the wall as well. Her palms lie flat on her thighs, and she begins to drum her fingers on her thighs. Sameen watches them, watches the movement as it goes on and on. The silence is deafening.

After what seems like an eternity, Sameen says, “Tell me about when your letter arrived.”

Root exhales, the sound of it only just reaching Sameen. “Well,” she starts, fingers still, “I never knew my father.” She takes a moment before she goes on. “I took care of my mother, for the most part. I still don’t know how the wizard thing works, but it must’ve been a recessive gene or something. My mother was nearly catatonic when the letter came, so there wasn’t much cause for celebration.”

Sameen stays silent, waiting for Root to go on.

“Lucky for me,” Root continues, voice sounding like she isn’t lucky at all, “My best friend at the time, had a witch for a mother. She, uh, explained it to the both of us, since we both got our letters in the same week.” Root weaves her fingers together. “I was… I don’t know. Relieved, mostly, because there was something other than what I was living.”

Sameen stays quiet this time because she has no idea what to say. She has a lot of questions, sure, but she doesn’t know where to start, or even if Root would be willing to answer them.

"Mother always told me to follow my talents, and I've always been good at magic," Root says, quiet. Tapping her open palms on her thighs, Root turns her head. “What about you?”

Sameen clears her throat, both a bit surprised at the question and grateful for the change of subject. “Both of my parents were Aurors,” she explains, remembering, “Mom’s still alive, but Dad’s not. I was doing magic pretty much since the moment I could hold a wand. Weirdly enough, I got a Hogwarts letter in the mail that made my mother want to cry when she saw it.”

At Root’s raised eyebrow, Sameen chuckles, says, “She went here. Dad went to Durmstrang. They didn’t meet until they started working for the Ministry. It was Dad who convinced her to let me go there.”

Root nods. “So you’re going to be an Auror, then?”

“I guess,” says Sameen, shrugging into her cloak. “He wanted me to be, and I feel like just because of that, I’m obligated to.”

“You’re not,” Root says, bumping into her shoulder. “You could even be a dragon catcher.”

Sameen grins, says, “Maybe.” She’s finding that she doesn’t mind telling Root these things. She didn’t talk about her parents with anyone until last year, with Cole, and she’s sure that Grice and Brooks still wonder who her parents are. Thinking of Cole, she remembers Root’s earlier words.

“Root,” she says, voice lowering, “Who was your friend?” She broaches the topic with a light tread, knowing that whatever happened, that friend isn’t around anymore.

“Ah,” Root breathes, a sad smile spreading across her face. “I should start at the beginning.”

Sameen looks around the two of them, at the creaking house. “We’re not going anywhere,” she murmurs, voice soft, surprising even herself.

“Her name was Hanna,” Root explains, staring at her hands. “Before I came here, I had started spending more and more time with her. We went to school together, before Hogwarts.” She takes a breath, swallowing. “We shopped for all of our magical stuff together after getting our letters, and on the train, we met new people. Hanna was so nice, and no one could resist being her friend.”

Sameen doesn’t miss the use of past tense, but decides not to press it. Instead, she focuses on another aspect of Root’s words. “New friends?" she asks, remembering Root watching certain people. "Harold and John?”

Root nods, her chin moving through syrup. “John hadn’t met Joss yet. They had Lionel with them. Still do, sometimes. I got put into Slytherin, Harold in Ravenclaw, John in Gryffindor, Lionel and Hanna in Hufflepuff.

“She didn’t even,” Root says, stopping to take a breath, “She didn’t even make it past first year.”

Sameen waits, moving a hand onto Root’s thigh. She doesn’t know the circumstance, but she knows all of the sentiments people offered when her closest friend was lost, all the words that were said to her that mattered yet didn’t. Silence, she finds, sometimes can mean the world.

“She was killed,” Root says, voice stronger. “During the winter holidays when she was visiting her parents. I stayed here because I hadn’t been invited.”

“You could’ve been killed, too,” Sameen points out, selfishly glad that Root had spent that winter holiday alone.

“I know.”

Grabbing Root’s hand, running her thumb over the skin, Sameen squeezes it. “It’s not your fault, you know that, right?”

Root doesn’t say anything to that, just sits against the wall, stiff as a statue. She lets her head fall against it, closing her eyes and pressing her lips together in a tight line. Her shoulders curl forward, and her hand grasps Sameen’s too tight, but Sameen knows that the reassurance of having someone there has to help, so she lets Root squeeze all she can.

“Hey,” Sameen says.

Root peeks an eye at her, and to Sameen’s surprise, there aren’t tears waiting to be shed behind Root’s closed eyes. Just a determined gaze.

“Sometimes,” says Sameen, “when I’m feeling _things_ I like to hit stuff.”

Root stares at her for a long moment, tension thick in the air like the dust, but after the dust flutters away, she nods, getting up. Sameen takes the outstretched hand that Root offers her, allowing herself to get pulled up by the taller girl. She thinks that she may have finally done something right, after all these years of being awkward around others when they’re feeling feelings.

Sameen loosely throws her arms up, and Root does the same, staring at her with something akin to a brick wall behind her eyes. Sameen takes an experimental jab at Root, and it’s dodged; she hits air.

Root punches her across the face, right in the cheek, and Sameen can’t help the grunt that escapes her. “Damn,” she mutters, putting a hand on the spot that Root punched. Looking up, she finds Root with a cold, blank gaze, looking at her with the hint of a smirk.

“Oh,” Sameen breathes, tasting a bit of blood in her mouth. Sucking her teeth, she says, “So it’s going to be like _that_.”

Putting up her fists, Sameen says, “No more going easy, Groves.”

Root’s expression turns confused at the use of her last name, and that’s when Sameen gets her, a fist to the stomach and an elbow to the back, forcing Root to double over, coughing. Sameen could hit her again and again, but she’s not in the mood to beat the crap out of --

Root barrels into her, arms around Sameen’s waist and knocking the wind out of her chest. The floor creaks beneath them, complaining about the altering weight on the aging wood, but all Sameen cares about is knocking Root hard and knocking her _good_.

It’s only when Root doesn’t let go that Sameen realizes that something’s wrong. Root’s face is buried into her neck, and she’s holding on tight, oblivious to the pushing and hitting that Sameen’s inflicting on her back in an attempt to get her off. There’s a sniffle against Sameen’s skin, and she freezes, arms falling to her sides at an uncomfortable angle.

“Root,” she breathes.

Root shakes her head, pressing herself against Sameen even tighter. Sameen figures it must be an awkward angle, Root being taller and all, but the girl must really be feeling some emotions.

This is a _hug_ , Sameen is realizing, and she does not do hugs.

But.

“Root,” she says again, adding a bit of warning to her voice, attempting to make it sound more threatening than her usual growl already is.

Sameen says, “I don’t hug, Root.”

“You’re not hugging me,” Root replies, voice muffled by the skin of Sameen’s neck. Sameen can feel her lips moving against it, “I’m hugging you.”

“Seriously,” Sameen says, “Back up for a moment.”

Reluctant and a tad annoyed, Root pulls away from her but keeps her arms wrapped around Sameen’s chest. Rolling her eyes, Sameen stand on her toes and kisses her, tasting the sadness in the way Root’s lips only just start to respond to the movements after a long, agonizingly slow moment.

“You’re okay,” Sameen says, after pulling away. “Alright?”

Root nods, chewing on her bottom lip. Then, she seems to realize something. “I’m going to ask you something, but you have to say yes.”

“I don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s a good thing.”

“Root, I swear --”

“Come to the ball with me,” Root asks, or demands. Sameen’s not really sure. At Sameen’s confused expression, Root expands, “Take me to the ball.”

“That wasn’t a question,” Sameen says, avoiding.

Root rolls her eyes, all signs of her earlier sadness gone. “And _that_ wasn’t an answer.”

Sameen exhales loudly, hopes the whole Forbidden Forest hears how much this affects her, as a person. “Fine,” she says at last, ignoring the way Root’s eyes light up.

Root leans down to kiss her, but she’s cut off by Sameen’s hand stopping her in the middle of her chest.

Sameen glares daggers at her. “But I get to lead.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, but I hoped you enjoyed it nonetheless!


	8. straight to their heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sameen's wide eyes resemble full moons, but not even the tide could pull them away from Root.

Sameen doesn’t know when they reached this stage.

She can’t even bring herself to call whatever they are a ‘relationship’ because it’s mostly just Root smiling at her and her scowling back, but she knows that the warmth in her chest is real, is nice. Sometimes, when she’s lying in bed at night, she thinks about Root and she allows herself to smile.

The stage they’re currently in is casual hand-holding.

Root’s hand is too warm and too tight in her own and yet, she’s getting used to the feeling. Root tugs her everywhere in the castle, so much so that Sameen finds that she’s getting lost again, after weeks of knowing her way around.

“I know a place,” Root says one day, leading her through the hallways, “where we can get to Hogsmeade.”

“I haven't been out of the castle in ages," Sameen says, letting her shoulder almost be pulled from the socket, Root’s grip tight.

Root nods. "Exactly." Sameen finally recognizes that they’re near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, as she narrowly misses brushing her shoulder against a statue. Root stops in front of it, and Sameen almost runs into her back, their hands falling apart for a brief moment.

Surprisingly, Sameen misses the contact.

Pulling out her wand, Root taps the hump of the statue and says, “ _Dissendium_.”

As a hole appears, Sameen realizes that she should probably figure out if there are any secret passages into her own school. Root looks back at Sameen and smiles, taking her hand to pull her into the hidden passage. The floor beneath Sameen’s feet turns into a slide before she realizes it, and she’s falling, almost.

She trips over her own feet at the end of it, coughing on dust, but throughout it all, Root’s hand is tight in her own.

“That was better than I expected,” Root breathes, her voice thick in the darkness.

Sameen nods, not realizing Root can’t see her.

Root says, “Come on,” and pulls on her arm again.

Sameen hasn’t been to Hogsmeade before, not prolific in leaving her own school all that much, so she lets Root lead her up the stairs from the cellar of Honeydukes, as Root calls it. As they cross through the door, she finds herself standing in a sweets shop, teenagers and children staring at the shelves, oohing and ahhing.

They make their exit, steadfastly avoiding the shopkeep's gaze and pushing through the front door.

Through the thickness of their robes, Sameen and Root’s hands swing back and forth as they walk down the street. They don’t stand out, the crowds thick with afternoon rush, though Sameen thinks they would if they were both donned in Hogwarts clothing.

“Where are we going?”

Root either ignores Sameen’s question or doesn’t hear it, staying silent as her thumb runs across the back of Sameen’s hand. Sameen swallows, biting her lip.

Root starts off and leaves Sameen to follow. There’s a scrambling in Sameen’s stomach as she picks up her step to keep after Root, annoyance flaring through her to replace the odd butterfly. A few moments later, they’re standing outside a pub, someplace called Hog’s Head, which Sameen can’t tell looks enticing or dirty.

Root catches her expression and smirks. “They’ve got the _best_ butterbeer.”

 

.

 

Root watches Sameen shoulder her way through the crowd, smiling after her. She curls her hand around the mug of butterbeer and takes a long, foamy drink.

“Come here often?”

The unmistakably British voice interrupts her, and Root glances up to find a boy she vaguely recognizes. She says, “You’re Lambert, right?”

He smiles, slipping into the seat opposite her. He carries his own drink, and she’s wondering where his counterpart is, the girl he’s been glued to ever since his school got here, Martine Rousseau. “Jeremy,” he answers, smooth like ice. “I was Martine’s prize for the second task.”

“Like poetry,” Root says, smirking back. “The girl saves the guy.”

“I'm not one for demasculinization,” he says back, unperturbed, “Martine and I have been close for years.” He leans back into his chair like Sameen hadn’t been sitting there just moments ago. “Whether she saves me or I save her, it’s all the same.”

Root doesn’t know where this is going.

“But,” he continues, spinning his fingertip on the lip of his glass, “I’m usually the one who gets the girl.”

_Oh_. “And is that why you came to talk to me?”

“Yes, actually,” he says. He grins, leaning forward in his seat. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Root attempts to wrack her brain for any reason _why_. They haven’t talked before this, and she’s barely even caught a glimpse of him since the second task, when they were both drenched and Root was irrevocably irritated with Sameen.

Root says, “I’m going with someone else.”

“Drop them,” he replies, simple as ever. "You'd look even more gorgeous on my arm."

“We’ve… never talked to each other before now,” Root points out, wishing that Sameen would show up from the restroom about now.

Lambert shrugs, talking a long drink. After he swallows, he waves a hand. “Semantics,” he says. “We can get to know each other during a waltz.”

“Even if I wanted to,” Root starts, shaking her head, “which I don’t,” she adds, holding up a hand, “I’m in a relationship. If you could call it that.”

“Who wouldn’t want to snatch you up?” He folds his hands together, and behind him, Root sees Sameen emerge from the throng of people, pausing in the crowd, scowling at the back of Jeremy's head. “I would make you mine and make it clear to the world, if,” he adds, smiling, “I had the pleasure.”

“Yeah, well,” Sameen says, crashing the party, “You don’t.” She slides onto Root’s side of the booth, her arm slinking around Root’s shoulders easily, hand curling around her upper arm.

Lambert’s eyebrow reaches the ceiling, it seems, and Root feels both warm and slightly embarrassed at Sameen’s outright display. “Ah,” he says, his smile holding so much more than before, “It seems the girl has already been claimed by a champion.”

“She hasn’t been claimed by anyone,” Sameen practically growls, “and _you_ are not a champion.”

Root feels Sameen’s arm tighten around her imperceptibly, fingers digging into her bicep, and there’s a tug of excitement in her chest.

Lambert takes another drink. “I’m not here to rain on anyone’s parade,” he says, punctuating the last word with a wink before slipping from the booth. He places his empty mug on a waiter’s tray as someone passes, licking his lips, “Although, I do look forward to hearing about you and Martine in the next task.”

Sameen stares, face blank.

“Good day,” he says before disappearing in the crowd.

As soon as he’s gone, Sameen’s arm vanishes, too, as she goes to the other side of the booth, leaving Root’s shoulder cold. She shivers, stretching, and tries not to make it obvious that she liked the affection.

“What an asshole,” Sameen says, glaring into her butterbeer.

Root can’t help but wonder if that ‘asshole’ would feel ashamed to be seen as couple in public with her.

“Yeah,” Root agrees.

 

.

 

Root wakes up on Christmas morning and is more excited for the night to come than what’s waiting under the tree in the other room. She never gets any gifts, but this year, tonight will be the best thing she’ll have ever received. Seeing Sameen in her formal robes -- Root can’t wait, honestly, and she wouldn't be lying if she said she’d had her dress picked out the moment Sameen agreed to go with her.

It’s sitting in her closet now, although Root doesn’t dare touch it.

Still in bed, she stretches and relishes the fact that she doesn’t have any classes on the holiday and that her dormitory is blessedly empty, her housemates downstairs ripping into menial presents. If she can slip by, perhaps she’ll be able to make it into the Great Hall and start a peaceful breakfast.

Finally, after several long moments of quiet, Root slips out from under the sheets and gets dressed. She takes her time, putting on her uniform with practiced ease. She’s tightening her tie when she hears a cough behind her and despite herself, she jumps.

“Sorry,” Sameen says, not sounding regretful in the least. She does look a bit sheepish, though, looking at Root with tightly pressed together lips and the usual Sameen Scowl.

Root sighs, attempting to hide the warmth that comes whenever she’s in Sameen’s presence. “I told you not to break in here again,” she admonishes. “You could get in a lot of trouble if you’re caught.”

“Yeah, well,” Sameen says, taking a few steps forward, “when do I ever do what you tell me to?”

Root smiles at that, lets Sameen’s hands find a spot on her waist. She doesn’t know if she could ever get used to this, to feeling the gentle press of Sameen’s lips this early in the morning. It still sends electricity down her spine, still causes her stomach to flutter.

Root realizes something a bit too late. “Is that,” she says, a bit breathless, “your wand in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”

The reference goes entirely over Sameen’s head, she sees, but Sameen scrambles to open her robes, revealing a small box within them. “I got you something,” Sameen says, brushing it off. “For Christmas.”

“Really?”

Sameen doesn’t say anything else, just shoves the box into Root’s hands and walks around the room, not watching her open it or paying her any mind. Root stares at the small box in her hands and can’t help but sniff. Quickly, she wipes at her nose with the edge of her robes and hopes that Sameen didn’t hear it.

She did, though. “Seriously,” Sameen says, staring intently at a painting on the wall, “just open it.”

Root opens the box and rolls her eyes, smiling. “You got me a flower, for Christmas?”

“It’s for the ball, dumbass,” Sameen defends, somewhat affectionately. When she turns around toward Root, Root swears she catches the hint of a smile on her lips, just as she’s schooling them back into a frown. “You haven’t even told me what color your dress is, so if it's completely out of left field, whatever.”

Root sets the white flower down on a side table and crosses the room, wrapping her arms around Sameen from behind. Sameen stiffens within them, but Root’s hands roam, caressing the thick wool of her robes, running over the jut of her hips. “I love it,” Root says lowly, lips close to Sameen’s ear.

“Yeah,” Sameen breathes, leaning back into Root’s embrace, “you’d better.”

“Oh,” Root says, “I do.”

In an instant, Sameen’s turned around, a hand gripped around Root’s house tie, yanking her down for a kiss.

No, Root doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to this, but the weakness in her knees is pleasant, Sameen’s bite even more so, and something tells her she could be falling in love.

 

.

 

“You look great,” Grice tells her. He’s standing in front of a mirror himself, fidgeting with his robes, too, altogether too big for something so formal.

Sameen’s having the opposite problem. She’s too _small,_ and she knows this, and she has never had a particular problem with it, partly because she doesn’t care what others think of her and partly because the other kids at her school know that she could give it to them good if they looked at her the wrong way, but tonight she _cares_. She supposes she could’ve just worn a dress, but the whole ‘representing the school’ thing kind of gets in the way of that. Bottom line is, she wants to look her best, baggy school uniform be damned.

“Could you,” she grunts, struggling to reach behind her back, “get this for me? I can’t really reach it.”

“Yeah,” Grice says, hopping over immediately.

He looks good, she thinks. She’d been surprised to hear that he’d been asked by some girl from Beauxbatons that Sameen had never seen before. She’d thought that he would end up going with Brooks. Sameen still doesn’t know who _Brooks_ is going with; She can’t decide if she cares.

“You still haven’t told me who you’re going with,” Grice remarks quietly, fastening the buttons on the back of her uniform with ease.

Sameen straightens the front of her uniform and stares ahead resolutely. “You’ll find out,” she says, shrugging. “I guess everyone will.”

“Exciting,” he murmurs. “Kind of like those muggle murder mysteries, y’know, how the murderer is revealed at the end?”

She shakes her head, smirking despite herself, and grabs her cape when Grice is done adjusting her uniform. She swings it around her shoulders, nodding slightly as it hides the heavier parts of the school attire that hang awkwardly on her. Overall, she looks pretty damn good.

Looking over at Grice in the corner, she nods. “So,” she tries to say casually, “Do you know who Brooks is going with?”

“I think she’s with some guy from here, actually. Some last minute thing. We were each other’s fallback in case we couldn’t get dates,” he says, confirming her suspicions.

“Right.”

“Okay,” he says, opening the door. “Ready to go?”

They start out the door and thankfully, Grice leads them down the hallway. Sameen might’ve been able to make her way there alone, but she doesn’t know if she would’ve made it on time. She parts ways with Grice at the bottom of some stairs and waits with Hersh, who is characteristically silent, although she can tell he is a little bit apprehensive.

John appears next, his date on his arm.

Shaw thinks they look amazing together, and she’s sure they can hold their own. John just dons his own customary white and black, while Joss is wearing a gold dress that Sameen is, quite frankly, a bit jealous of.

When they come to stand near her, she leans in and murmurs, “You look gorgeous,” to Joss.

“Yeah?” Joss shoots her a look. “And where’s your girl?”

Sameen actually feels surprised that Carter knows, having considered herself to be closer to John than his girlfriend. “Somewhere around here,” she says.

Joss shakes her head and Sameen swears she sees John’s lips curl just slightly.

Martine and _Lambert?_ are next, and Sameen wants to laugh, although she has to admit that they sure know how to dress. Martine, blonde hair curled and a deep blue dress, just smiles at Sameen in that way that unsettles and angers Sameen at the same time, while Lambert looks like he knows something everyone else doesn't.

Another teacher tells them that they’ll have to be going in soon to start the Champions Waltz, but Sameen snaps, “My date isn’t here, yet.”

Lambert’s eyes sparkle. “Will she be here ever?”

Sameen’s about to snap back with something not entirely appropriate when Joss says, “There she is.”

There’s a variety of reactions:

First, Hersh’s muttered, “ _She?_ ”.

Second, Lambert’s loud, annoyed exhale.

And third, Sameen’s wide eyes that mirror full moons, but not even the tide could pull them away from Root.

She’s dressed in all black, a gown that just skirts the floor. An expanse of skin peeks out in a cut as she walks, black heels, and her hair is down and pulled back in braids. On top of everything, she’s wearing that trademark smirk that Sameen can’t stand. Sameen wants to smear that red lipstick all over her face because Root has never looked more beautiful, a white flower tied around her wrist.

She walks to Sameen’s side and is easily a half foot taller, especially with the added heels, but she wraps her arm around Sameen’s waist regardless, taking in the looks from the others. She leans in and murmurs into Sameen’s ear, “Safe to say, I’m the best looking one here.”

Sameen shrugs. “I think you’ll have to fight me for it.”

Smirking, Root says, “That can be arranged.”

Root’s arm slides into Sameen’s like it’s habit, and they line up behind Martine and Lambert to go into the Great Hall. Sameen actually smiles, the smirk resting easy on her face, and Root’s expression is languid, the adoration bursting over her expression, overflowing. Their steps match as they walk into the hall.

There’s no arguing; they certainly are the best looking couple in the room, and when they reach their spot in the middle of the dance floor, Root is proud to have Sameen on her arm.

Sameen’s hand falls to her waist on reflex, after about a week of having this dance instilled into her head. Their hands meet in the air, fingers curling around each other, and Root smiles down at Sameen, grateful for the change of partner after these last few weeks. John is nice, but Sameen is -

Sameen is _leading_ , definitely, a strong pressure on her hipbone, guiding Root where she needs to go, even if Root already knows.

Unbeknownst to Root, Sameen is cursing herself, cursing her feet, cursing everything she knows - if she steps one foot out of turn she will not hear the end of it from her classmates.

She cannot step of Root’s toes.

Regardless of how good on her feet she usually is, dancing has never been a particularly strong suit. But Root is smiling, distracting and elegant and, okay yeah, beautiful, so Sameen feels like she’s going to fuck up.

But by now the other students are joining in, a whole dance floor’s full, and the song playing in the background evolves into something different, a tad faster. Sameen picks up the pace and closes the distance between her and Root’s hips, not missing the sharp exhale Root emits.

She smirks, eyes meeting Root’s cheekbones. “Flustered, are we?”

Root doesn’t miss a beat. “Who’d you have to partner with, Sameen? Was it the bulky one? I don’t seem to know his name,” she adds, mischief in her eyes.

Sameen scowls, but shuts her mouth.

“You’re too good for someone who hasn’t had any practice,” Root says, as the song slows down. It morphs into something else, and the formal dance is over. Wrapping her arms around Root’s waist, Root rests her hands on Sameen’s chest, playing with the buttons of Sameen’s uniform.

Sameen scoffs, not really believing what Root just walked herself into. She says, “That’s what she said,” and rolls her eyes.

Root raises an eyebrow and decides not to comment.

The dance is slow, and they’re only swaying more than anything, keeping time with the music. Root smiles, too sweet for Sameen’s taste, and Sameen can’t believe she ended up like this. With someone, _this_ someone.

“Can I,” Root says, leaning in a bit closer, “I really want to kiss you right now,” she admits, amending. She says it like if she asks, Sameen will say no.

Like Sameen cares what anyone else thinks. “Whatever,” she says before she’s closing that small distance, pressing her lips to Root’s with just a hint of pressure. Root melts into her, she can feel it, the slip of Root's hands, the curl of fingers brushing just underneath her jaw, but Sameen pulls away with a lazy smirk on her face before Root can do anything else.

“Song’s about to change,” she prompts, as she tucks her head underneath Root’s chin. Resting her head against Root’s chest, she can hear the wild thrum of Root’s heartbeat, smell the citrus of Root’s perfume. Root’s arms wrap around her and she finds that she likes the warmth, likes the feeling.

They step not in time with the song, but with the synchronized sound of Root’s calming heartbeat.

 

.

 

Root goes to the restroom, and Sameen steps outside for a moment, into the gardens. She’s bathed in the light of the moon, but the cold doesn’t affect her, the thick wool of her uniform trapping in heat. The night, so far, is promising, and she can’t seem to stray too far from Root. She doesn’t mind the dancing, either, even if she feels as though she could fumble at any moment.

She finds a bench to sit on, leaning back to let out a deep breath.

Drifting her eyes closed, she tenses when she hears light footsteps almost masked by the rustling of the rose bushes. A voice says, “I know you can hear me,” and she instantly recognizes it as belonging to Martine.

She opens her eyes to find Martine standing against a pillar, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, grinning devilishly. Sameen says, “Looks like Lambert isn’t as accommodating as he let on.”

“Please,” Martine drawls, “I had to point out to him that _your_ date was leaving to get him to leave _my_ side.”

Sameen stands, glaring, but Martine steps in her way.

“I doubt he’ll follow her into the restroom,” Martine says, smirking, “but if he does, then he has more balls than I ever estimated.” Martine reaches forward and pulls on a button, adjusting some part of Sameen’s uniform. “Pretty girl, by the way," she adds, eyes glittering. "Your prize for the second task, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s all she is,” Sameen sighs, brushing off both Martine’s comment and her hand. “Pretty," she clarifies when Martine's brow raises. "She needed a date and wasn’t going to say yes when Lambert asked her before running off to you.”

The smile shifts on Martine’s face, just slightly, enough to tell Sameen that she’s hit a soft spot. “You look good, Shaw,” she says, leaning even closer. Sameen can smell the perfume, stronger than the roses around them. “A pity I couldn’t have you to myself.”

Sameen doesn’t say a word as Martine pats her chest before turning on her heel, disappearing behind tendrils of thorns.

She waits a long moment, for what seems like several minutes before she starts to head inside. She can hear her own heartbeat, throbbing uncomfortably in her veins, and she needs to find Root, make sure she’s okay, make sure she’s -

“Sameen?” Root steadies them both, stopping Sameen on her barrage through the doors back inside, having been on her way outside. Root squints at her, concern laced into her features. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sameen says brusquely, grabbing Root’s hand and pulling her back outside. She takes Root far away from where she’d been standing with Martine.

She doesn’t mean to push Root against the wall as hard as she does, but the air that falls from Root’s chest just urges her on. Her lips find Root’s, and she places messy kisses against them, for sure smudging Root’s carefully applied lipstick and probably her own, too, but she doesn’t really care right now. Root’s hips grind against her own, unconscious, and the small sounds that are coming from Root’s chest are delicious.

“Sameen,” Root objects, when Sameen’s lips move to her neck. “ _Sameen_.”

“What,” she breathes, finally pulling away to look at Root.

Root must see the look in her eyes. She softens, leaning her head back against brick. “Are you okay?”

“I -” Sameen shakes her head. Ripping her hand from Root’s waist, she punches the wall next to Root as hard as she can; the only sign that the pain affects her is the gritting of her teeth. She keeps her hand clenched in a tight fist, says, “I don’t know.”

Root takes her hand, the gesture too soft and too kind and overwhelming. “Come stay with me tonight.”

“I thought you said I’d get caught.”

Root rolls her eyes, bending one of Sameen’s fingers just to send a jolt of pain through Sameen’s arm. “I’m taking my invitation back if you’re going to be an asshole.”

Sameen leans forward and rests her forehead on Root's shoulder, breathing on her skin. Against her collarbone, she says, “I’m always an asshole.”

“You might believe that,” Root says, breathless, “but you’re nicer than you want everyone else to believe.”

At that, Sameen retracts herself and looks affronted, walking away from Root, leaving the taller girl to catch up. She has a smile on her face, as she clutches her slightly injured hand to her chest. She allows Root to slide her arm around hers, and they walk arm-in-arm back inside.

  
  



	9. we won't tell anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wishes more than anything Sameen could've stayed the night.

After the ball, they fall into bed and Root sighs in Sameen’s arms, content to bury herself in the warmth. Sameen can’t stay, but she can’t bring herself to say those words out loud. She’ll wait as long as she can, if Root wants her here.

Something must tip Root off, because Root turns in her arms, a question written all over her face. They’re alone, the rest of Root’s housemates still at the dance, and Root’s at least grateful for that. She opens her mouth, ready to ask Sameen to ditch whatever she has to go to. The words die on her tongue when a scurrying comes from the corner.

Her eyebrows knit together, and she slips from Sameen’s arms, reluctant. “I forgot to feed her,” she murmurs, slipping the hood from the ferret’s cage.

She turns to look back at Sameen, finding her seated on the edge of the bed, a crooked smile plastered on her face. It’s the biggest smile Root’s ever seen on Sameen’s face. There’s something serene about it, something that adds a settling feeling into Root’s chest.

“What’s her name?” Sameen’s voice is soft, watching Root reach into the cage with dark eyes.

“Cass,” Root answers, pulling the small ferret from the cage. The animal doesn’t object, just squirms in Root’s hand as Root points her toward the small bowl of food. Root adds, “After the -”

“The Seer,” Sameen finishes, standing up. She shrugs out of her cloak, putting it up on a hook. “Why?”

Root shrugs, gazing at Cass as she eats, fur jittering with each mouthful. “I like Divination, and the celebration of witches, especially ones who didn’t get enough recognition in the first place.”

Root’s about to put Cass back, but Sameen stops her, saying, “Can I hold her for a bit?”

A bit turns into around an hour, Sameen lying on Root’s bed with her head at the opposite end, Cass settled on her chest. Root is mesmerized by Sameen’s fingers, waggling in front of Cass’s nose as she plays with her. Root shakes her head. Cass never takes to anyone this quickly, and she wonders how Sameen hasn’t gotten herself bitten yet.

“She likes you,” Root murmurs, reaching a hand over to tug on Cass’ tail. She lets her hand rest on Sameen’s abdomen and doesn’t catch Sameen staring at her; she only has eyes for Sameen’s absentminded twirling fingers.

“Unlike most people,” Sameen mutters, dropping her hand to her side. Root misses it.

“I liked you,” Root says. “Almost immediately. All grouchy and -”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Sameen threatens, albeit light-heartedly. She sends a glare toward Root, although it loses some of its effect from the angle her head’s at, facing up toward the ceiling. She sighs when Root only grins back, leaning on her arm.

Root draws circles on Sameen’s stomach, enjoying the tightening of the muscles underneath her fingertip. “I find it hard to believe,” Root says, enunciating each word thoroughly, “that once someone got to know you, they’d dislike you.”

Sameen stays silent, not arguing.

Root presses on, digging into an open wound. “What about your friends? The two you’re always hanging around from your school? They seem to like you, the boy especially.”

“Grice likes anything that pays him special attention,” Sameen mutters, craning her neck. “And Brooks - she’s hard to read.”

“Harder to read than you?”

Sameen gives her a good side-eye, and Root chuckles. Sameen says, “They’re there, but I wouldn’t consider them friends. I haven’t had a friend since -”

Root’s eyebrows perk, and she waits patiently for Sameen to keep talking, but no words come. It’s odd, the way her mind suddenly fills in the blank, the way she needs, now, to hear what Sameen was going to say, the urge grounding her.

“You’re not getting away with that one,” Root says after a long while, when it’s obvious Sameen isn’t going to finish her sentence. She tries to keep the lilt in her voice, but the stiffness of Sameen’s shoulders is telling her that something different is going on, something she won’t be expecting. After a few more minutes, Root says, “Come on, Sameen, ‘haven’t had a friend since’?”

“My best friend died,” Sameen finishes, too quick, too sudden, and Root wasn’t ready for the burst of feeling to come rushing into her. “Like yours, I guess,” Sameen continues, starting at the ceiling with hard eyes, “except he wasn’t killed. He got sick, went home, and I never saw him again. Someone had to tell me that he died, his parents never did.”

Root’s palm lies flat against Sameen’s stomach, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing.

“His mom never liked me all that much,” Sameen sighs. “Guess it makes sense she’d never pass along the message.”

“You haven’t let yourself get close to anyone,” Root comments quietly, “have you?”

Sighing, Sameen gets up, shifting away from Root and onto the edge of the bed again. Root’s hand slips from her stomach in the process, letting it fall against the bed. Sameen is rigid in her formal clothing, and Root’s shoulders are bare to the room’s chill. They should probably go to sleep soon, and Sameen should probably leave, but Root’s determined to finish this conversation.

“It’s not a matter of _letting_ ,” Sameen disagrees, hands coming up, fingers gliding through her hair. She pulls it out of the knots and ties, letting it fall loose, and Root watches with a lip tucked between her teeth. Sameen sighs, says, “I don’t do feelings, and Cole, he got too close.”

And Root wonders where that leaves _them_.

“That Grice kid,” Root whispers, sitting up and placing a hand on Sameen’s shoulder, “I can tell that he really cares about you.” Sameen doesn’t look at her, but Root can tell that she’s listening, can feel the pull in Sameen’s tendons. “Whether or not you’re letting yourself feel, Sam, there’s something there, regardless if you want it.”

Sameen does look at her then, pupils dancing back and forth between Root’s eyes, before she looks at Root’s lips. “I know,” she says, soft and almost vulnerable. She swallows, leans in and brushes her lips against Root’s.

Then her hand is wrapping around Root’s throat, as she’s pressing her lips harder and her tongue deeper. Root’s hands find her waist and Sameen presses her back against a pillow, thumb digging into her throat almost as a reassurance, a constant reminder that Sameen’s there, and then Sameen’s parting her lips, pulling a moan from her throat.

She pulls back, both of them breathing hard, and Sameen smirks. “I can’t stay,” she says, her hand drifting down Root’s torso, settling on the undercurve of Root’s breast.

“Then go,” Root says simply, letting her hands fall from Sameen’s hips and onto the bed.

Sameen hovers over her, reading her, before she leans down and captures Root’s lips once more, tasting her more than kissing her, savoring the moment. She presses one last kiss to Root’s lips before she leaves, shoving herself off the bed with a loud exhale, shrugging back into her cloak.

“After class, first day back,” Sameen says, watching Root stand up with dark eyes, “we’re going into the Forbidden Forest and you’re going to kill something.”

Then, she leaves, and Root sheds her dress as fast as she can, hoping her housemates aren’t anywhere near coming back. She slips into her comfiest pajamas, stares at her swollen lips in the mirror, and basks in the scent of Sameen’s perfume still lingering in the room.

When she goes to lay down, she buries her head in her pillow, a hand drifting between her thighs. She comes with Sameen’s name on her lips, Sameen’s scent overwhelming her. She wishes more than anything Sameen could’ve stayed the night.

 

.

 

There’s no assigned seating in Root’s Transfiguration class, so when she spots Harold sitting in the front of the room after arriving early, she isn’t expecting him to wave her over. He gives her a long look over owl-eyed glasses before returning to his text book, flipped open to something she knows they haven’t gotten to in the class yet.

She doesn’t say a word to him when she sits down, settling into the chair quietly. Most of the students haven’t filed in yet, and she’s grateful for the time to look over her notes. She’s also a bit curious, wondering where she stands with Harold, even if they’d agreed to be friends.

She’s never really been one to let go of an old grudge, and knowing him, he’s waiting for her to put her walls back up.

But, truthfully, she knows that Sameen has been good for her, and she also is beginning to realize that Sameen will be going back to her own school come the end of the tournament. If Root doesn’t patch things up now, she’ll be alone again.

“Have you ever read about human transfiguration,” Harold murmurs, not looking at her.

Glancing at the book, Root can see that’s the series of pages he’s on, and she shrugs. “Not much,” she admits.

“It’s fascinating,” he comments, but leaves it at that.

She doesn’t know if he wants to know about the next task, which she can’t help him with. She would, too, regardless of Sameen, because she can feel this friendship growing underneath the warm lamplight, pushing through thick soil. SHe wants to harbor it, because sooner or later, Sameen will be gone.

Finally, Harold looks over at her, a question on the tip of his lips. She can tell, has been on the receiving end of that look many times, and when he speaks, she’s not surprised as to what comes out. “So,” he says, slowly, methodically, “I caught a glimpse of you at the ball.”

So, not a question then. “Funny,” Root fires back, undeterred, “I didn’t see you.”

“You two make a striking couple,” he comments, laying eyes back on the book. His corneas twitch, tracing across every line, and Root wishes she could’ve seen herself dancing with Sameen that night.

Root almost wants to object, say that they aren’t a couple, but she supposes they are, now that they’ve done something so public like this. “Is everyone talking about it?” she wonders.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he says at last, and she gets the implied meaning.

“She’ll leave after the tournament,” Root says, shrugging, “but I’m glad, too.”

Harold hums under his breath, turning a page in his book. Root’s familiar with this type of companionship, the comfortable silence that always accompanies Harold that somehow doesn’t get under her skin. She’s okay with it, and something about it tells her she’ll be okay when Sameen’s gone, too.

“You’ll find,” Harold says after a long while, “that some relationships forged can stand the stress of distance, time. I’ve no doubt that you care about each other,” he adds, looking forward, “that much was obvious at the ball, and I’ve no doubt that it will last.”

Root wonders how he could possibly know that, and she’s about to ask him when McGonagall appears, stalking down the aisles, words spewing from her lips. Root only stares at Harold, but she somehow feels as though he’s right.

 

.

 

Sameen waits for Root at the edge of darkness, where the shadows of the Forbidden Forest touch the grounds of the school, hidden in the black. She hasn’t seen Root for days, not since classes started, not since Hersh decided training was imminent and that she needed all the help she could get. She doesn’t want to think about the times she catches him looking at her oddly, a faraway gaze in his eyes.

She’d gotten a letter to Root’s dorm after sneaking in once or twice, trying to catch Root in there, but finding it empty. She hoped Root had managed to sneak away, mostly because she wanted to teach the other girl some more magic, and maybe make out some. Both were good.

Sameen settles against a thick tree, sliding down and sitting on the ground. She waits for what seems like hours, almost, for Root to show up, and when the other girl finally does, she has apologies rolling off her tongue.

She’s breathless, hair flowing behind her, and Sameen rolls her eyes as Root says, “They had teachers standing by the doors at dinner, I think the Headmaster wanted to make an announcement.”

“Yet you still managed,” Sameen murmurs, opening up her arms for Root to fall into them. Root’s warm, lips slightly chapped, but she feels the same as she always does, infuriatingly tall.

Root is smiling when she pulls back. “I always do,” she says before scanning the area behind Sameen’s back, eyes squinting in an attempt to sort through the darkness. “So, what are we going to do here?”

“You’re going to kill something,” Sameen supplies, pulling away from Root and leading her into the forest. Root’s footsteps don’t follow until a moment later, hurried.

“Kill?”

“Isn’t that what I said?” Sameen asks, annoyed. She dodges a few trees as they travel deeper into the forest, sidestepping odd looking bushes as Root attempts to keep up with her. She’s gotten better at matching the taller girl’s step, despite the height difference. It’s less maddening, she supposes.

Root puffs next to her, finally grabbing onto her arm and forcing Sameen to slow down. “And how,” she asks, glancing all around them, “am I going to do that?”

“The killing curse,” Sameen replies, like it’s obvious.

“Right,” Root breathes, nodding to herself.

They reach a clearing and Sameen stops, disentangling from Root’s iron-grip. She brushes herself off, pulls her wand out. When she turns to Root, the expression on Root’s face looks _scared_ , almost, and Sameen wonders if Root knew what she signed up for when she asked Sameen for help.

“It’s like what Martine used,” Sameen tells her, “during the second task. She got talked to afterwards for it, she’s not supposed to know it.”

“Then why do you?”

“My school figures you have to know how to defend yourself,” Sameen explains, feeling as though she’s repeating herself. She feels excited, ready, but the way Root’s eyes keep moving back and forth around the edge of the clearing, she can tell that Root’s a little worried. She reaches an arm out and says, “I’ll show you.”

 

.

 

They work for a while, Sameen going through the motions and showing Root how to do the proper wrist flick. They don’t continue with the incantation because neither one of them want to accidentally murder the other, though Sameen tells Root that the intent behind the spell is just as important as the spell itself.

Sameen comes up behind Root and Root can feel Sameen’s breath on the back of her neck, the feeling not uncomfortable. Sameen’s hand drifts up, fingers pressing lightly against Root’s wrist, and she turns her head toward Root. “That’s good,” she murmurs.

Her face is way too close, and Root swallows. She nods, her mouth suddenly dry, and repeats the motion. She doesn’t feel like they’re in the Forbidden Forest at night, the fear inside of her mostly gone with Sameen at her side.

“I think you’ve got it,” Sameen says after a while.

Root drops her arm. “I still don’t think I should be starting with something this advanced.”

“Can’t learn how to swim without touching the water, Root.”

Root rolls her eyes, getting the analogy. “So, what? This is you throwing me into the pool, sink or swim?”

Sameen stares at her, calculating, and says, “No, this is me leaving you in the middle of the Forbidden Forest to kill or be killed.”

Sameen turns on her heel and walks away, disappearing behind a large, thick-trunked tree. Root’s brows knit together and then she’s running after Sameen, fear clutching around her heart. Skirting around the tree, Sameen is nowhere to be found, and Root presses against the bark and grips her wand as hard as she can.

Her back presses against the trunk and her breathing picks up, eyes scanning the black of the forest. She’s not prepared for this, but isn’t this what she wanted? It’s what she’s been begging Sameen to teach her for weeks and now she finally has the skills, she just has to practice them.

Root wonders if she should just wait for something to come along, but chooses instead to venture further into the forest, her wand pointed at her waist.

A twig cracks to her left and she whirls, pointing her wand straight at the sound. Nothing moves, not even her as she holds her breath, and she stays still for what seems like a solid ten minutes. She’s shaking in just the slightest, the trembling of her wand hand giving her away.

Stepping over protruding roots, she reaches another clearing, larger than the one she and Sameen were in before. She hears something shuffle behind her and this time, she controls her reaction, turning slowly, sure that nothing will be there at all.

She comes face to face with the largest spider she’s ever seen.

Too scared to even make a sound, Root stumbles back, tripping, watching as the spider advances on her, pincers clicking in amusement, almost.

She remembers her wand, still in her hand, and she raises it slowly, steadily.

Her voice, however, is unsteady when she says, “ _Avada Kedavra_.”

Nothing happens, except the spider lunges for her and Root yelps, rolling out of the way and scraping up her forearms. She’d forgotten the motion, paired with the incantation, and it’d fallen short for such a powerful spell. Terror pulses through her and she finds herself wondering if Sameen had left her completely and utterly alone.

It’s only when the spider pounces for her again that she sticks a hand up, yelling “ _Avada Kedavra_!” with all her might, swishing her wrist, that a green light weakly twists from her wand.

She can tell it’s not powerful at all, the spell hitting the spider dead center and merely slowing it down. It sputters, faltering, and Root scrambles to her feet as she watches it die. She feels something twist in her chest at the sight, sounds of pain filling the night.

There’s a clap from behind her and Root’s absolutely ready to -

It’s Sameen, leaning against a tree, clapping her hands slowly, obviously impressed.

“You’ve got a little,” Sameen says, motioning to her own face.

Root reaches up and wipes her lip, her hand coming away stained with crimson.

“That was good,” Sameen points out, eyes scanning Root’s face. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. right before your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Root looking at her like that, Sameen feels like she can do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the last chapter before the epilogue... SO suffice to say - this is basically the last chapter! The epilogue will be set a few months from the events of this story, but yes. Also *cough* the rating's... been, um, _changed_.

The morning of the third task, Sameen Shaw wakes up far before the the sun rises. She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. Deep breaths.

She needs to win this one, so she can take the glory back home with her. If she doesn’t, all of the champions will be neck and neck, and she doesn’t want to have to go through that. Sameen focuses on tonight, on visualizing the win, but she doesn’t know what winning looks like.

She imagines stumbling out into an empty field. Winning. Cuts across her cheeks.

She doesn’t think about leaving, not yet. She hasn’t talked to Root about it, but she doesn’t imagine that conversation going well.

Sameen sighs, turning on her side. She hears Brooks shift in her bed as well, hears the snores of a few classmates as the minutes tick by. She feels a twitch in her shoulder when she stretches.

Getting up in one swift motion, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, sitting on the edge of it for a long moment. The bed’s high enough off of the floor that her feet don’t touch the ground. They swing in long, sweeping strokes.

Sameen does her stretches methodically after she stands up. One arm across her chest, then above her head. She bends her knee behind her back, pulls her foot up. She does lunges, everything she can think of that will get her mind off the task ahead of her. She’s ready, she knows that.

Glancing over at Brooks, Sameen creeps past her and into the main room to find Hersh sitting by the fireplace.

He glances up at her when she walks in. “Shaw,” he says, turning back to the fireplace. “Come sit down.”

She suddenly feels a bit of a chill in the air, but she sits down anyway.

“I know you can do this,” he says after a while. He’s always been a man of few words, but she’s never minded it. He sounds as though he’s reassuring himself rather than her.

“I know,” she breathes, but she’s nervous again, the tension that had been dispelled during her stretches appearing once again. She knows that she can do this.

“You’re one of the best in your class,” he reminds her, even though she knows it. “You know your spells, and Rousseau, she does, too. Don’t let her get the drop on you. Reese won’t be a problem for you, but you need to watch out for Martine.”

“I know,” she repeats. “She won’t.”

“Good,” he says, and that’s the end of the conversation. He gets up, sighs, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Shaw. Before the third task.”

She nods, lets Hersh’s hand slide from her shoulder, and when Hersh is gone, she sinks into the chair. She feels like a weight’s been put onto her shoulders, rather than lifted from them. She can’t tell if she wants to go home or if she wants to stay. She sits there, staring at the fire, with her mind as blank as she can stand until the sun rises. Part of her wants to go see Root, but it’s too early.

She stands up, still facing the fire, and when she turns around, she starts. hand going for her wand. “ _Christ_ ,” she breathes, because she hadn’t grabbed her wand when she’d come downstairs.

“Sorry,” Root says, and apparently, it’s not too early. Root looks more awake than Sameen feels, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Her hands are linked behind her back, her foot crossed in front of the other, and some part of Sameen is relieved she’s here. “I couldn’t sleep,” Root adds, “with the third task today.”

“ _You_ couldn’t sleep?” Sameen echoes, looking down at the floor. “I’m the one in the damn competition.”

Root doesn’t say a word as Sameen goes and sits back down, only watches.

She crosses the floor when Sameen’s settled, placing her hands on Sameen’s shoulders from behind. Her fingers knead into the muscles beneath them, massaging. It feels nice. Sameen missed this. She leans into Root’s touch, hoping it conveys what she doesn’t quite have the words to say. Root seems to get the picture, featherlight touch inching its way toward her neck.

Root leans down, presses a kiss to the side of Sameen’s neck. “You’ll do fine,” she murmurs against Sameen’s skin.

Sameen finds herself wondering when they got this close. It only makes the weird feeling in her chest harden into something unfamiliar, something she knows will make a goodbye that much more difficult.

And that’s when she reaches up, curling a hand around the back of Root’s neck, and pulls her in for a kiss. Root edges around the chair, leaning down at the awkward angle to accomodate. Sameen kisses her hard. She pries Root’s mouth open with her tongue, a hand drifting to Root’s hip until she’s practically tugging Root onto her lap, the taller girl falling onto it with a soft exhale of air.

She pulls away from Sameen, a questioning look in her eyes, but Sameen stares back, daring her to speak. Root stays silent. Root kisses her, biting Sameen’s lip and finally giving Sameen what she needed in the first place. She presses her hips into Sameen’s, and Sameen is aware of everything. She focuses on the clammy feel of Root’s hands clutching at her cheeks, the curve of Root’s hips under her own fingertips, and finally, the heat of Root’s thighs bordering her own through the thin fabric of her pajamas.

Sameen’s in sleeping shorts, and she has half a mind to take one of Root’s hands and guide it between her legs.

“Fuck,” Brooks says, and Root detaches from Sameen like she’s been slapped, though her hands don’t stray far. Both of their heads snap in the direction of the doorway and Sameen’s reminded that they’re in an entirely _public_ place, and Brooks was probably just on her way to the fucking bathroom.

“Um,” Sameen says, mostly because the sun’s only just above the horizon and Root’s precarious above her, not allowing for the most coherent of thoughts.

“I’m going to go,” Brooks mumbles, shuffling off with sleepy steps, back the way she came.

Root’s already disentangling herself and she’s gone by the time Brooks is, settling on another couch, entirely too far away. She looks flushed, brushing hair behind her ear. “We got a little carried away,” she admits, rubbing a palm on her thigh. There are pixels on her pajama pants; Shaw’s never seen anything like them.

“Yeah,” Sameen says, pulling at her shirt where it had ridden up.

“I’d like to,” Root starts, and Sameen does not want to have this conversation right now, “before you leave. Because let’s face it, you’re leaving after you win this.”

Sameen nods, but she really, really does not want to talk about this.

Root stands up, straightens out her clothes, and comes to stand next to Sameen. “I’ll see you at the third task,” she murmurs, a hand drifting up, a thumb brushing against the cut of Sameen’s cheek.

She leans down for a kiss, and Sameen cranes her neck to give it to her.

 

.

 

The crowd is roaring, ten times louder than the first task, or even the second one.

And the third task? It’s a maze, impossibly bigger than anything Sameen has ever seen in her entire life. Hersh’s hands are warm on her shoulders, fingers digging into her muscles as she waits for the announcer to _announce_ , but Sameen has never been one for mind games. She’s never really excelled at solving these things when she was younger, and she never took the time to actually figure them out.

She can’t imagine being trapped in one.

Or being stalked by a potentially murderous teenager on one hand, and several dangerous creatures on the other. She’s in a lose-lose situation, but Hersh is murmuring nothings in her ear that are about strategical advantage, a bunch of bullshit that she isn’t listening to.

She’s looking at Root instead, who isn’t allowed to come down onto the field, but who is standing in the first row with her hands clasped together and in her eyes, all the magic in the world. With Root looking at her like that, Sameen feels like she can do anything. She hasn’t looked away from Root since the Minister began his speech, and she doesn’t plan to until she’s forced into that maze.

She’s told, then, to line up in front of her respective entrance and she watches as Root winks at her. It’s not flirty, just confident and everything she needs.

She’s ready.

She waits until she can go and then she’s running, into the hedges and into the cold.

The maze closes behind Shaw’s back and she’s left alone.

Glancing to her left and right, Sameen doesn’t even spot her competitors. Everything is silent, save for the thick wind shifting the air. The leaves rattle in the brush, and Sameen’s wand is held tight in her hand. She doesn’t know where to begin.

She decides that she should just go forward. She walks and walks and walks, careful to check both ways each time she passes an intersection. She’s ready for Martine to pop out at any moment possible. She’s completely prepared for whatever Martine could throw at her, irrevocably convinced that she’s both a better witch and fighter than the other girl ever could hope to be. She only hopes that’s enough.

But John, she doesn’t know what to expect from him. They’ve been friends up until now. She doesn’t know if they can even call it _friends_. Acquaintances, maybe, but after you save someone’s life, they’re indebted, right? Sameen thinks so. As she rounds another corner (she’s gone right, left, right, left, right --  in hopes of going relatively straight), she figures that John will leave her alone if it comes down to it. No harm, no foul. She won’t hurt him if she has to. She hopes she doesn’t.

There’s a chill in the air and a crack to her right. She whirls, pointing her wand to the sound and freezing in a defensive position. Her muscles twinge, ready to fight. She’s ready. She knows she is. She dares whatever it is, _whoever_ it is, to come out already and _fight_. She knows that people have died in this tournament before. Hell, she almost died in the second task. She’s made it this far.

She stands at attention, wand at the ready for approximately five minutes. Nothing shows up, the sound doesn’t repeat itself, and by the time Sameen relaxes, she’s convinced herself that it was nothing.

Of course, there are not only champions in this maze, but creatures, too. The cold’s getting to her - she can’t name any off the top of her head, but she’s sure that most of them are in the Forbidden Forest that her and Root walked through the other night, alone. If she can deal with that, she can deal with whatever’s in here.

She’s not scared. Her hands are shaking from the cold. She’s not scared.

“Okay,” she says, right out loud. It’s low, low enough that she’s sure it’s lost on the breeze.

Sameen doesn’t believe in anything, but if she did, she’d believe in her father being able to see her right now.

“I know this is a wizard maze,” she murmurs, stride quick and strong. The words said out loud to herself are making her more confident, she feels better, “but Dad, if you could help at all, I promise I’ll help Maman with every single chore she asks me to do when I go home.”

The wind picks up, but Sameen doesn’t need a reassurance. She nods to herself, adjusts her grip on her wand, and clears her throat. She feels like she’s been walking for miles, the maze neverending.

It’s then when she hears a yell, low and distinct, and some part of her wants to run far, far away from it. But something pulls her toward it, something tells her that John is in trouble, and not just from some creature from the maze, but something far worse.

She runs, and as she skids to a stop, peering around the edge of a hedge, she finds that she’s right.

Martine has him, and he’s _screaming_.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Sameen shouts, catching Martine from behind and off guard. Both Martine’s wand and John fall to the ground, the latter with a thick thump. He doesn’t look so good.

Martine turns to Sameen and advances, quicker than Sameen expected, striking out with a hand before Sameen can even put her own hands up. Her fist connects. Pain splits through Sameen’s jaw, blinding and crushing up her nerves, and Martine wastes no time in getting another hit, jabbing her in the stomach.

“Nice to see you again, Shaw,” she murmurs, just as her elbow connects with Sameen’s back, sending Sameen sprawling onto the ground.

Sameen coughs blood onto the grass. The hedge starts to rustle, the wind picks up, and leaves fly around Martine’s feet.

“You know,” Martine says, just as her foot collides with Sameen’s abdomen, knocking the wind from her chest, “I was wondering how loud I had to make John scream to make you come running.”

Sameen clutches her stomach as the pain crawls through her. She can’t think, can’t breathe, and she has no idea where her wand is.

“It’s a pity your _girlfriend_ isn’t here,” Martine continues, reaching down to pick up something. Blinking through practically unseeing eyes, Sameen notices her own wand, the length odd in Martine’s hand. Martine waves it experimentally, having lost her own wand in the hedge when Sameen cast her spell.

She points it at Sameen. “I’d just love to see the look on her face when I did this,” she croons, starting the wrist flick.

The hedge, though, the hedge swallows her up before she can continue. Martine screams and Sameen watches as the hedge collides with the one next to it, grabbing anything above four feet. John and her are left alone, still pressed to the ground. Sameen’s wand lands in the grass next to her, having fallen from Martine’s hand, and Sameen grabs it.

Sameen takes a shuddering breath before crawling over to John.

He’s barely conscious, but after a few light taps on his cheek, his head rolls to the side, eyes focusing on her. “You’re alright,” she murmurs before glancing above the both of them. The hedge cuts them off, and she knows that if they have any chance, they’re going to have to move fast. “Do you think you can crawl?”

He maneuvers onto his stomach, pushes into a plank. He nods thickly, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He looks a little worse for wear, but there’s nothing Sameen can do about it. This is their only option.

She leads the way, crawling on her hands and knees, keeping a careful eye on the vines around them. They shudder, reaching out occasionally, but none appear to be too malicious. She hears John behind her, coughing. She doesn’t have the slightest idea what happens to someone when they’re swallowed by the vines, but she’d rather it not happen to him. She needs him up and standing.

They crawl and Sameen’s forearms are cut up. She’s out of breath by the time they break out of that particular row, but she pushes herself to her feet, quick to reach down and pull John up as well.

She finally allows herself to take a good look at him. Cuts litter his face, and blood coats his chin like a beard. Sameen heaves out a sigh.

“What now?” he asks, and it sounds a bit like he’s given up.

“We’re not staying together,” she says brusquely, a little torn at the fact. “If we both get out, then we both win, and I’m not risking that. One of us is going to win, that’s how this is going to happen.”

He nods, but then his gaze focuses on something past her, and Sameen freezes when he goes shock still.

John has his wand out a moment too late, and Sameen’s feet are knocked out from underneath her, her breath, too. She lands on her back, staring up at a repulsive creature with legs at all angles.

“John!” she screams, although she knows he has no obligation to help her. He could just leave her. She scrambles for her wand, just as the creature strikes.

John strikes first, yelling something Sameen doesn’t quite catch, and a brilliant light sends the creature off running. Sameen lies there for a long moment, breathing hard, and stares off where it went. “What was that?” she wonders out loud, not really expecting an answer.

She gets one anyway. “Blast-Ended Skrewt,” John says, standing a few feet away. “Our Gameskeeper likes to keep things interesting. It’s illegal to breed them.”

“Fucking figures,” she mutters, getting up. “Thanks,” she adds.

“We’re even,” he says, shrugging. He holds out a hand and Sameen shakes it. “Separate ways, then?”

She nods. “You’re one of the good ones, John.”

He looks at her for a long moment and Sameen wonders if she’d said something wrong. A part of her wishes that she had gone to Hogwarts. If she’d taken the other choice. She could’ve met Root sooner, she could’ve been friends with John, Joss, Harold, even. She feels like she could’ve been friends with all of them, if she’d had the chance. John’s good enough.

“May the best win,” he says with a wink. It falls odd on his face, so covered with dirt.

She remembers this one. “So me, then.”

He shakes his head. “Not a chance.” And then John is gone, disappearing around the corner of a hedge without another word. Sameen is alone with just the wind for company, wailing high through the leaves.

Sameen trudges on, new vigor tracing through her body. She wants to win, and she’s convinced that she’ll find the cup within this mess. She walks and walks, her wand out and ready for any other creatures she may run into. She doesn’t have John to bail her out this time, so she keeps her head on a swivel, just in case. She’s ready. She’s _ready_.

And that’s when she sees it.

She’s walking past a row, catches the spot of bright blue out of the corner of her eye, but also she hears the shuffle of running on the other side. She knows it’s John, running for the cup, and she bolts.

Her and John are running opposite each other and Sameen can see it, feels like she can run for _hours_ like this. Her arms swing at her sides, the wind whips at her cheeks, digging into the cuts on her skin, and Sameen grits her teeth as she jumps over vines attempting to obstruct her from winning. Nothing can keep her from this.

There’s a clearing before the cup, and she’s three, four, five steps ahead of John.

She reaches it before he does. When her hands wrap around the curl of bronze, Sameen is pulled from all angles, swirling into darkness.

 

.

 

Root doesn’t know what they’re supposed to do for the entire time, there’s no way to _watch._

And she’s worried about Sameen up until Martine’s pushed out of the hedge, unconscious and bloody, almost spit from the leaves and branches with a kind of rejection that takes years to get used to. Jeremy Lambert is up and over the guardrails before anyone can restrain him. She isn’t going to be killing anyone like that, regardless of how devastating nightmares can be.

Root is on the edge of her seat, because there are still creatures in that maze that have deadly attributes. She knows that Sameen can handle herself, but she needs to _know_.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Harold says after a long while, although Root can tell that he’s just as nervous.

John is pushed from the hedge, too, but he’s awake and a lot less bloody. There’s a commotion that Root can’t quite hear from her vantage, but he’s glaring at Martine who has since woken up.

“Oh, my,” Harold murmurs, and Root grabs his hand.

Seemingly, Sameen pops up out of absolutely nowhere, clutching the Triwizard Cup in her arms. Root knows immediately what it was - a _portkey_ \- and she’s out of her chair and in the field before anyone else gets to Sameen.

She throws herself at Sameen, her arms around Sameen’s shoulders and her face buried in Sameen’s neck. She breathes Sameen in, taking in the scent of blood and sweat and dirt, and Root thinks she hears the Cup fall to the ground a moment before Sameen’s hands come up to reciprocate the hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Root mumbles into Sameen’s shirt, sniffling uncomfortably. She doesn’t care that everyone - absolutely _everyone_ \- is watching them.

“It was no big deal,” Sameen says after a moment. “I could’ve -”

Root kisses her then, swallowing up Sameen’s sound of surprise. She did it mostly to shut Sameen up, but she hopes that it hides her shaking hands. If she’s kissing Sameen, her voice doesn’t have to crack.

“Hey,” Sameen says, holding Root at arm’s length, “I’m alright.”

But then the Minister is pulling her away, grabbing Sameen’s hand and holding it as high as he can. “Witches and wizards! The Winner of the Triwizard Tournament, Sameen Shaw!”

 

.

 

There’s a feast.

Sameen feels sick to her stomach. She eats regardless, not tasting the food. The cup in front of her refills itself and people clap her on the back as they pass. She smiles. She nods. She fights back the food that threatens its way back up her throat.

There wasn’t any other way the tournament could’ve gone, and Sameen realizes it’s _good_ that she’s won, but the tournament is over. She’s going home. Every time she meets Root’s gaze from across the room, Sameen averts her eyes and stares at the clear, enchanted skies of the Great Hall’s ceiling. The next time she looks where Root was last, Root’s gone.

Sameen stands, drawing the attention of Hersh, who shakes his head. “I’ll be back,” she murmurs, ignoring Hersh’s stare.

She’s grateful to have memorized the way to the Slytherin dungeon, but she catches Root before she arrives. “Root,” Sameen says, grabbing the edge of the other girl’s robes, “ _Root_.”

When Root finally turns, her eyes are brimming with unshed tears and Sameen supposes now is as good a time as any to talk about this.

“You’re leaving,” Root says, words hanging heavy in the air.

“Yeah,” Sameen agrees. “I am. But I’ve got an owl. He’s fucking ridiculous, but he can fly okay.”

That earns her a laugh. Sameen steps closer to Root and reaches for her face. A tear falls. She brushes it from the curve of Root’s cheek, wiping it away. “Hey,” she murmurs, surprising herself, “we’ll be okay.”

Root nods, searching Sameen’s face for the lie. She’s kissing her then, hungry and desperate. Sameen tastes the salt of tears when Root’s tongue pushes past her lips, her hips judding against Sameen’s own. Sameen knocks against the wall and suddenly, Root’s laughing.

“You need help,” Sameen says, her head falling against the wall. Root laughs on her neck and Sameen feels the flush coating her skin.

“No, _Sameen_ ,” Root argues, stepping back. “Look.”

Sameen follows Root’s head tilt, eyes skyrocketing when she sees the door for the Room of Requirement that has suddenly appeared. It’s then that Root’s hand finds her own, pulling her toward it, and Sameen has a weird inkling of what they’ll find inside.

Just a bed, and Sameen lets Root push her down onto it with a calculated shove to her shoulders. Root sheds her robes and Sameen watches her, running her gaze up and down Root’s body. Root goes for her house tie next, and then Sameen’s up, hand’s covering Root’s own, stilling them.

She undoes Root’s tie herself, unbuttons Root’s shirt. It hands from Root’s shoulders and she takes a shuddering breath.

Sameen kisses her shoulder as her shirt falls, lips skidding on bare skin. Root tugs at Sameen’s clothes, struggling with the many buttons of her uniform and at some point, Sameen’s stumbling back toward the bed. She falls into it with a sharp exhale, but only this time, Root’s falling with her, knees knocking on Sameen’s hips.

“Are you sure about this?” Sameen murmurs, even as Root is pulling off Sameen’s pants.

Root nods, hand finding Sameen’s breast over the fabric of her bra. Sameen’s chest tightens when her breath catches, and Root looks down at her with her lip between her teeth.

She kisses her way down Sameen’s stomach, Root’s fingers hooking around Sameen’s panties before she’s tugging them off Sameen’s hips, breath hot between her legs. Sameen sees stars, screwing her eyes shut. Root presses a kiss to the apex of her thighs, driving Sameen over the edge with a cautious tongue. Sameen tangles her fingers in the sheets instead of Root’s hair. She can’t think, but she idly notes the pressure of Root’s digits on her hips, sure to have bruises.

Root’s tongue sparks, lighting a fuse, and Sameen’s on fire. Hips half a foot above the bed, arching of their own volition, Sameen swears she’s in love.

Root hums against her, and Sameen tips over the edge, settling into the bed as she gasps into the crook of her own elbow, tasting the sweat leaking from her own pores. Root crawls up her body, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Root’s kissing Sameen’s mouth like it’s hers, and Sameen takes a moment to savor the taste of Root’s lips, soaked in sweat and salt. Root presses a palm against Sameen’s stomach.

“Do you love me?” Root whispers, and Sameen really needs to work on not saying her thoughts out loud.

Sameen’s head rolls. She finds Root staring at her own fingers, pressing needles of nerves into shuddering skin. Reaching around Root’s back, unclasping her bra, Sameen kisses her, mumbling a reluctant, “maybe” against Root’s lips.

As she pushes Root into the sheets, a hand sneaking its way between Root’s thighs, she hopes that’s enough.

  
  



	11. as you rise (epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the last day of her seventh year, Root wakes up and isn't dreading the summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, the song that inspired it all was The Rifle's Spiral by The Shins. I'd highly recommend listening to it while you read this chapter! :)

On the last day of her seventh year, Root wakes up and isn’t dreading the summer.

(Unlike the previous years, where she had no idea what she was going to do without somewhere to stay. She's no longer welcome in the Frey home, and technically, her mother’s still alive, even if she’s living in the treatment facility. Root doesn’t have a home besides school.)

She’d gotten a letter during mail the other week and, having met Sameen’s _dreadful_ owl, the letter made all the difference. She’d been sitting alone at the table and it had fluttered down a moment before the owl itself came screeching, halting just by her side with claws outstretched. It was content to stay until she wrote a response.

She was being invited to stay at the Shaw home for the summer and, as Sameen put it, it was because Sameen knew she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

The letter’s sitting in her top drawer now, tucked beneath a few robes and hidden from her housemates. Today’s her last day and then she’s off across the country, to parts of Europe she’s never been to stay with Sameen. Root’s never gotten out of bed fast enough.

At breakfast, she eats alone. It’s quite enough that she doesn’t mind the solitude. She’s buzzing underneath the surface, and she’s looking forward to venturing out into the rain and onto a train later in the day. She’s halfway into a biscuit when Harold comes up beside her, settling in the space like they’re old friends, as opposed to new.

She’s still getting used to this.

Her other friends quickly follow: John Reese and Zoe Morgan, who recently joined their little circle almost as recent as Root did. Carter’s already left for home, and Root finds that she misses her.

“Hello,” Root murmurs, once she’s finished chewing.

“I’m so ready to leave this place,” John says before Harold can reply, and Root doesn’t miss the irritated glance that he sends at John over his glasses. Resting his forearms on the table, John smiles. “Our OWLs are over… It feels like we have so many options.”

Root shrugs noncommittally. She still doesn’t know what she’ll be doing after this, but she has the whole summer to decide.

“Where are you going over the summer?” she wonders. She asks because she knows Carter went back to the States to be with her family. She’s curious to see if John’s going to follow.

He shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I might go visit my family, but I’m a legal wizard now. I could work for the Ministry, or the equivalent in the States. I’m going to see what Joss is up to.”

Harold pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’ve an affinity for computers,” he says, unsurprisingly, “and I believe if we integrated magic with modern technology, there could be something useful within that field.”

“I’m thinking freelance work, for myself,” Zoe offers, although she doesn’t elaborate.

“Where are you going for the summer?” Reese asks, and Root’s kind of glad that she can call him a friend.

She thinks about it a moment before answering. “Home.”

 

.

 

The train ride is long, but when she steps off and into the station, Root doesn’t regret the time spent at all. She searches the crowd for Sameen reflexively, but she knows it’s a lost cause as most of the people in London are carrying umbrellas anyway. She’s never going to find a grumpy, short witch in this crowd unless she wants to be found.

Root stops for coffee at the station and stands next to a column of stone, steaming cup in her hands. The city is vastly different than her school, or even Hogsmeade, and the cup in her hands is a telltale example. She takes a sip and lets the liquid burn in her throat.

There’s a tap on her shoulder and she almost drops her coffee when she jumps, but it’s Sameen when she turns around, looking not at all different, but smirking at her like she’s won something worth the world.

Root can’t put the cup down fast enough before she’s vaulting herself into Sameen’s arms. She smells warm, buried in enough coats to counteract the London downpour, and petrichor sticks to her hair as Root breathes her in. Sameen’s arms are strong around her waist as Root hugs her, and Root murmurs, “I missed you so much,” in the crook of her neck, squeezing even tighter to reinforce her words. Her heart aches, even as Sameen stands here with her.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sameen mutters, though her voice is muffled in Root’s hair. She doesn’t sound as macho as Root knows she wants to.

Root pulls back just enough to angle her face, kissing Sameen and catching her by surprise. It’s been months and Sameen tastes the same, feels the same, and yet the electricity sparking from their lips still makes Root weak in the knees. That’s the same, too. Pulling away, she notices the serene smile she leaves on Sameen’s face and smirks.

“Are you ready to leave or not?” Sameen asks, and she’s trying to sound irritated, but a smile creeps into her voice. She lets Root weave their fingers together.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re meeting my mom for lunch,” Sameen tells her, and Root’s heart plummets at the prospect of meeting Sameen’s mother. She hadn’t thought about it before this moment, and Sameen must notice her expression because she squeezes her hand reassuringly. “Relax,” she adds. “Maman’s harmless. Save the nerves for her chili. That might make you cry.”

Root nods, but she probably doesn’t look convincing enough.

“She’ll love you,” Sameen says, and Root practically feels the unspoken _like I do_.

Root nods again and she feels better. She’s home, in an unfamiliar city with a girl she loves, and a girl who loves her back.

 

.

 

Root in her home is nothing like she imagined.

She’s still tall, infuriatingly so, but Sameen’s gotten used to the height of the other girl. And Root looks at every little thing in Sameen’s house like she’s never seen it before. Sameen’s house is a wizard home, has belonged to a witch for some time, and it shows. While many things don’t move of their own mind, there’s a reason Sameen doesn’t have to do many chores (and a reason she does).

But Sameen’s mother isn’t here; she’d split from them in the small town after the train ride from London and Sameen had taken Root back home.

“It’s not much,” she says because it isn’t. It’s tucked away between others, but Root is looking around like it’s more than she’s ever seen. Maybe it is.

“It’s everything,” Root breathes, and she smiles at Sameen in that way that makes Sameen’s heart skip. She’s still not quite used to the feeling that accompanies this girl. She’s not used to feeling at all.

She loops her fingers with Root’s, leads her up the stairs, says, “My room’s up here,” and has the distinct feeling that the house Root grew up in may have been smaller than this one. Sameen’s never thought of her house as big, but she’s learning more about Root everyday, through the letters she received at school and the way her eyes take everything in.

Suddenly Root’s hand creeps around her waist and she pushes Sameen gently against the wall, tugging a reluctant smile from Sameen. “Root,” she warns, but they’re alone and they’re home for the summer and the rest of their lives; there’s no reason for the warning at all.

Back pressing against the wall and chill running up her shoulderblades, fire runs into her lips when Root kisses her.

“Like I said,” Sameen says against her, pointedly ignoring the way Root can’t seem to keep her hands off of her, “my room’s just down the hall.”

“Okay,” Root sighs, pulling away with the weight of the world on her shoulders. She keeps her hand in Sameen’s and lets Sameen lead her down the hallway. By the time they make it to the room, she’s so distracted by the lack of objects and the bed in the corner that she’s forgotten Sameen entirely.

Sameen sits on the edge of the bed and watches as Root makes her rounds, taking in the curtains and the dresser and running her fingers across the wall. Eventually, Root settles beside her and puts a hand on her thigh. They sit in comfortable silence. And it is comfortable for Sameen, as Root’s nails draw stars just above her knee.

“Thank you for inviting me for the summer,” Root says quietly, after a moment.

“You’re always welcome,” Sameen counters, and they’re her mother’s words, but she means them, too.

Root nods thickly, like the movement hurts, and then she’s looking at Sameen. She can feel her gaze prickling on the side of her neck. “So, you’re going to start your Auror training soon?”

Sameen nods. “In London, I’m pretty sure. It takes three years, if all goes well. I’ve already been accepted into the training.”

Nudging her shoulder, Root grins. “You’ll be a Dark Wizard Catcher.”

“Maybe,” Sameen agrees. “What about you? You could apply and come to London, too.”

Root’s eyes drift away from her, leaving her cold and missing them. “I think I’m going to work with Harold, actually. There’s a muggle internship in the city and I’m quite adept with computers. We’ll still be able to see each other, so that’s nice.”

“Don’t stay just for me, Root.” She doesn’t mean for her voice to sound as cold as it does, but it comes out icy. Crisp and cool, Sameen feels Root go still next to her. They’re too young for this, Sameen’s realizing. Too young for this kind of feeling and maybe she herself too young to lead Root on like this.

Root puts a hand on Sameen’s shoulder and those eyes are on her again. “There’s nothing left for me in America, Sameen.”

Sameen realizes that she’s not leading Root on, then. Maybe they both are getting ahead of themselves, but they’ve lasted this long. They can probably last a little longer, she thinks. “I just want you to be doing this for you,” Sameen tells her, not meaning to lean into Root’s touch but doing it anyway, “and not for me.”

Root’s head replaces her hand, and they sit like that for a little bit, with Root’s head on Sameen’s shoulder. Sameen swears that they sway just the slightest. After a long moment, Root says, “I’d do anything for you, I think,” and Sameen draws in a deep breath, ready to argue, but Root continues, “but I’m doing this for me.”

Craning her head, Sameen presses her lips against Root’s head.

“I hope it works out,” she says against Root’s hair. She’s always liked Root’s hair.

Sameen points her wand at the door and it closes, and then she’s pulling Root against her and down onto the bed, tucking her face into the space between Root’s shoulder blades. She breathes Root in, settling down, and doesn’t let Root squirm in her arms as she tightens her grip around Root’s waist. Eventually, Root gives up in attempting to turn around and just sighs against her.

“You’re the worst,” she groans.

“But you love me,” Sameen says, and she’s not used to the words, probably couldn’t say them herself after all this time, after the first time.

Root pinches her arm, turns swiftly against her, and plants a kiss on her lips. “I do,” she says.

“Me, too,” Sameen says, and she means it.

She really does.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me on this crazy ride! I had no idea this monster would be this long, or that it would generate such a following! I hope you guys liked it - I sure did - and again, thanks for reading!


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